Pianissimo Butterfly
by Angrybee
Summary: Ryuichi goes out on a limb to help Shuichi. Can he and Kumagoro save Shuchan from ending up detatched and jaded? Rating for violence, sexual situations, and language.
1. Critical Sunshine

DISCLAIMER: Gravitation and it's characters are the intellectual property of Maki Murakami. This story means no offense to the creator, and is merely a work of fandom, attempting to further endorse interest and appreciation of the Gravitation manga and anime.  
  
GRAVITATION is a story of shonen-ai. Many of the characters depicted in Gravitation are homosexual or bisexual. If this is not to your liking, please do not read the story, as I would not wish to offend.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Pianissimo Butterfly ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter One: Critical Sunshine  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Sakuma-san, please do get out of bed."  
  
"Ungh?"   
  
"No, do not 'ungh' me. And take that pillow off your head. And, oh goodness, what is this, Sakuma-san? Are these bits of crackers in your bed? And poor Kumagoro is on the floor. Here. You take Kumagoro and go shower, hm? Wash whatever naughty things you did last night off and..."  
  
This is Molly. Molly is my "Personal Assistant". Well, that is her title, anyway. Her job description is more like "Making sure that Sakuma Ryuichi doesn't end up dead in a puddle of his own drool". K hired her a few years ago when I was having some problems. Problems like remembering to eat, figuring out how to get my clothes dry-cleaned, wandering into large malls to buy bracelets and ending up in the hospital after being attacked by fans, and accidentally setting my house on fire when Kumagoro wanted to get cozy by the fireplace. You know, -problems-.  
  
The penthouse of the Osakaji International Tower, where I live, actually has three separate apartments. Mine. A smaller one for Molly, and then a studio for my driver and bodyguard Ten. No. I do not know why he is called Ten. But, considering that he is one of K's best friends...well...you get the picture.  
  
I find Kumagoro tucked into my arm as I finally sit up and blink into the daylight. Molly is running the dust-vac over the bed-ruffle, scowling lightly. She's from Wisconsin, I think, which makes the accent on her English very pretty to my ears. And, she never curses, ever.  
  
Yes. I am 33 years old, and I need a babysitter. Pathetic, ne?  
  
I drag myself out of bed and head for my rather posh bathroom. Completely naked. Kumagoro is also naked. Molly comments on neither of us. She's seen me naked more times than I can count. I'm not particularly worried about it. Molly just rolls her eyes.  
  
She knows I'm grumpy until I've had a shower and coffee. I'm in a particularly fowl mood this morning, due to how sleepy and run-down I feel. I'm not certain why. I must have been up really late. Or, maybe Kumagoro got us both into trouble again. Though, if the crackers in my bed are from last night, then I was probably just working on lyrics in bed. So, that will be okay.  
  
I put Kumagoro in his bathroom chair, which is really just a ledge in the bathroom that Molly had them put in for me so I could see Kumagoro when I am in the shower. Sometimes I have bad panic attacks before I take my pills in the morning, so I need Kumagoro to be on the lookout for anything strange.  
  
Showering is good. I like the soap best. Molly got me some soaps in the shape of cartoon characters from the United States. They are really cool, but sometimes I throw them out before I use them all up. I don't like it when they stop looking like they are supposed to look. It's creepy. I had some special soap with glitter inside, which I really liked, but Molly stopped buying it because it made my skin turn bumpy.  
  
When I get out, I turn Kumagoro so I can see his face in the mirror. Molly has a list of things laminated and taped beside the medicine cabinet. Brush teeth! Sparkle sparkle! Moisturize! Rubrub! Eye cream. Dab dab! It goes on like that. Tohma-kun told me once that my face is very important, because people identify it with my voice. He said that if I did not take care of it, people would feel how I felt when one of Kumagoro's eyes fell off. Same Kumagoro, but very frightening to look at.  
  
If I did not have people to remind me of this stuff, my face probably would have fallen off long ago.  
  
After I dry my hair, I walk back into my room. I guess you could say that my room is big, but I've seen bigger ones. Especially in America. K brought me to meet some of my -favorite- musicians while I was there. They have -really- big houses. I guess it is because there is more land in America.  
  
From his perch on my head, Kumagoro agrees. I'd like to go back to America sometime. But, I'm not ready yet. When I'm old, perhaps. Plus, all my best friends live in Japan. Maybe if I bought a big enough house, some of my friends cold live there, too. I'll have to ask Tohma-kun what he thinks.  
  
Molly has all my clothes arranged by color, which makes it look like a rainbow. I used to have more orange and yellow shirts, but I threw them all out because they are Shu-chan's favorite colors to wear, and I didn't want it to look like I was trying to be like him. Hehehe.  
  
Kumagoro suggests the silver shirt today. Very shiny and slinky, and it feels so good when you wear it. Some black pants that ride low on my hips. Oh. And a belt so they don't fall down. You can see my tummy a bit, but that's okay. Tummies need to get air sometimes. And...hm...cowboy hat, Kumagoro? Yes. Kumagoro is a style expert.  
  
I wander into the kitchen. Molly has breakfast set. Big breakfast. She's supposed to make sure I eat at least one good meal a day. By the plate is a little Hello Kitty cup with my pills in it. Yuck. Also, this week's copy of "Music Splash!". There's a little article on Noriko this week, and I'm in one of the pictures of people who went to the Hakodate Music Festival. Kumagoro, too! In a black tie. So stylish.   
  
Molly crosses her arms and watches me like a hawk until I take my pills. I do it, because I know she won't let me out of the house unless I do. She'll call everyone, and I mean -everyone-, one by one until I take them.   
  
So, I take my pills. Kumagoro takes his pills. And, I drink some coffee, na no da. After I eat some, then Molly goes through my schedule while she puts my things in Kumagoro. He's only half-bunny. He's also half kangaroo, na no da. That is why he speaks English, you know. Because of Australia!  
  
And he has secret pockets!  
  
She puts in the almost the same things every day. My sunglasses, a plastic poncho that fits in a case smaller than a cigarette box, my little cell-phone, and 10k yen. But, sometimes Molly also puts in a piece of candy, or some crayons too.  
  
"Ryu-chan will sing today!"  
  
"Yes, Sakuma-san. Ten will take you to the studio. You have a recording in the morning, then some interviews after lunch. Seguchi-san has those arranged and will take you." She goes on and on about some other stuff. It doesn't matter so much. It doesn't matter what I do today...or tomorrow or...ever. I'll never be good enough...ever...ever...  
  
"Now, now, we go now? Vrooom, Kumagoro!"  
  
Molly seems to consider how much I've eaten. She shrugs, hands me Kumagoro, and nods. "You call Molly, Sakuma-san, if you forget anything!"  
  
They have my whole life planned out, pretty much. I suppose it is good. I tend to hurt people and get hurt when left to my own devices.  
  
I wish I could say it was just one incident. I could get over one thing. But, it isn't. There's a laundry list of sins for which I plunge myself into self-recrimination daily.  
  
Just thinking about it...  
  
I'm such a bad person.  
  
Wow. For once, I hope the pills kick in soon. I want to sing today. I want to shine. I need it, or I am pretty sure I will go find something else to make me feel nice.  
  
Ten is in the living room, sitting on the sofa, reading the newspaper. He's an interesting person. Great at trivia, but terrifying in a debate. For instance, if you ask Ten 'How can I get from here to Washington D.C?' he can tell you which flights to take, how much they will cost, which airports to go through, how long your layover will be, and the name of the best waitress at the airport bar. But, if you ask Ten, "What do you think of Washington D.C', he'll go into this long rant about aliens and conspiracies and the FBI and global warming and media conglomerates.  
  
That's the kind of guy he is.  
  
Like I said, Ten is my bodyguard and driver. He also runs some sort of online business or something, which is a good thing for him to do with his time while waiting around for me, I guess.   
  
"Vroom, Ten? Vroom, vroom? Kumagoro wants to go -fast-."  
  
"Yare, yare. Don't be in such a rush, Sakuma-san, you'll get there before the NG building even opens."  
  
"Then, I'll break in and Kumagoro will keep lookout!"  
  
Ten puts down his newspaper and leans back to fish his keys out of his pocket. "Hm? No, Sakuma-san. Kumagoro is too pretty to go to jail."  
  
The drive to NG doesn't take long. Actually, it takes a lot less time than it did this morning, because I somehow convince Ten to stop and let me get a manga I wanted. Ok. Well, I might have told him I needed an English thesaurus for some lyrics I've been working on. Hehehehe. I really was going to get it, I mean...  
  
The checkout woman smells of peanuts. She does not recognize me. Good. Her voice is screechy. Bad. I pay in cash. Always cash.  
  
Once back in my car, I attempt to read my manga, but I fall asleep. Ten wakes me up with a loud "YO!" sometime later, and escorts me into the building.   
  
NG is a pretty big building, and there is a lot of stuff that goes on there that you wouldn't believe! There's even a recording studio in the basement where they edit those "relaxation" CDs. You know the ones, "Sounds of Light", "Relaxing Rainforest", and "Wind and Birds". That sort of thing.   
  
But, I know my way around, so it's okay, na no da.   
  
Ten and I go to my office. Did you know that I have an office at NG? I do. It isn't as big as Tohma's, of course. But, it has a great sofa for taking naps, and a huge dry-erase board and...oh...the best part...  
  
It is right by the vending machines on the second floor. Hehehehe.  
  
And, it is on the same floor as the Bad Luck offices, so sometimes, when no one is looking, I go into the bathroom that is next door to their studio and listen to Shu-chan and just completely fuzz out. Shu-chan has -the- prettiest voice, ever. Some people tell me that my voice is also very nice, and it did make me famous. But, I always think my voice just sounds a little morose, even when I sing my happiest songs. Shu-chan's is fully light and gentle and windy. You can close your eyes, and you become like a butterfly, gliding over a field, rubbing your butterfly-nose against the flowers.  
  
Ten and I head up to my office. I have about a half hour before recording time,  
  
This is also a butterfly feeling, but a -bad- butterfly feeling. This one is trapped in my stomach. I'm doing a duet with Tsunami Puppets for their next album "Punch Punch Rag Doll". I want it to be really good, because I like Tsunami Puppets, and I'm really glad they chose me. They have such a jazzy low-key feel. I don't mind, really. I like doing new stuff, especially with an older, established band like them.  
  
"Calm down, Sakuma-san," Ten says, plugging his laptop into the wall. "Try reading your book, maybe?"  
  
Oh, I guess I am annoying Ten by tapping some old drum sticks against my desk. But, I don't think I could read my book, not now. Instead, I try to jot down some lyrics.   
  
Time is of the essence. Go faster. Go slower. Leave me behind, charisma and cruelty. Go faster. Go slower...  
  
Not really a song. Just words. They just pour out. Afterwards, I'll stuff the paper into my desk. Maybe I'll use them later, maybe not.   
  
I wonder if David Bowie ever gets butterflies.  
  
I wonder if Shu-chan gets butterflies.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"That was -so- good. Thank you ever-so-much, Sakuma-san."  
  
The lead singer of Tsunami Puppets touches my hand and smiles at me. I don't remember his name, but I think they call him "Red" because he always wears bright red lipstick. Well, I call him "Red", anyway, and he doesn't seem to mind.  
  
They never do.   
  
We're sitting together on the old couch outside of the recording room, watching as their drummer (real drummer, not a keyboard or sound machine) sets down the beat to the track.   
  
"Kumagoro thinks we should maybe try it one more time. That last time wasn't so good. Ryu-chan sounded too breathy, na no da."  
  
I definitely sounded breathy. You can hear me suck in air right before the chorus. It is good of Kumagoro to notice these things and point them out before we make a mistake.  
  
"I think it sounded sexy," Red replies. He's running his crimson fingernail over the back of my hand, tracing my fingers while he stares at me. "Everything about you is sexy, Sakuma-san. The way you breathe, the way your voice imprisons notes and then sets them free, the way you look in those leather pants. You know, if you wanted, we could..."  
  
"We could sing the song again?" It would definitely be good to sing the song again. I'm sure I could do it better. I know I could.  
  
Red looks sad. He turns away from me and lets out of a snort of a laugh. "Yeah. Of course, Sakuma-san. Whatever makes you happy, man."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Red has me up against the bathroom wall. He's whispering to me, saying impossible things about beauty and life and how wonderful it is that we can be together, if only for right now. That lipstick of his is smeared across my collarbone. I'm pressed. Squeezed. A pancake between glamboy and this cold, lifeless, white tile wall. His hands are warm, and they slither between my shirt and my chest, into my pants, over my face. Everywhere. Everywhere. His hands are everywhere.   
  
The only thing I can feel is Kumagoro's ear. I rub it between my thumb and forefinger, just to make sure. Just to make sure I haven't disappeared completely.   
  
I touch Red's face, softly coaxing it towards mine. It feels like wax. It's not real. It's a sculpture animated by evil forces just to taunt me.  
  
"You're perfect, Sakuma-san. Perfect."  
  
Perfectly numb. Completely removed from what's going on with my body. I want to be somewhere else. I want to -be- someone else.   
  
If I listen. If I strain... I can just hear Shu-chan's voice. Right beyond this wall. Shu-chan's shiny songs pull me towards the green-green fields with yellow butterflies. With wind bending the flowers, like they are bowing. Yes. Hello Flower-san, I would say. Pleasant here, isn't it? Nice and warm? Everything here is really real.   
  
"Oh, Sakuma-san, I want you...I've never wanted anything more than I want you... You make me feel so...."  
  
Harsh fluorescent bathroom lights. No. Sunlight. Yes. Sunlight and clouds, and Shu-chan singing just for me. Just Shu-chan, and Ryu-chan, and laughter. Oh, and maybe a picnic, too. And there aren't any fans or appointments or people telling us what to do.   
  
Cold linoleum. I'm being lifted. My head hurts. Hands stroking my skin. Breath assaulting exposed flesh. So much...too much...  
  
Shu-chan. Why? Why? Why is your song so sad today? You're hurting me. You hurt, I hurt. That's always the way it is, isn't it. I wish I could... But, you love him so much, don't you? Yes. It's not my right to interfere. I could never take care of you. I can't even take care of myself.  
  
I taste blood.  
  
"You fucking asshole!" Red yells.  
  
He stumbles backwards, clutching his ear. Droplets of blood appear between his fingers and fall to the floor. I hope he plans on cleaning that up. Not nice to leave a mess in public restrooms.  
  
I button my shirt correctly and tuck Kumagoro under my arm.   
  
"You bit my ear, you little shit. Fuck! You tore a piece off..."  
  
"You wanted a piece of me. So I get to take a piece of you, too." Was that my voice? I think it was. I sound very severe.   
  
"Oh shit. I'm going to need stitches." Red turns on the sink and wails miserably. He might have a better singing career if he could hit those notes in the studio.  
  
What? Why are you giving me -that- look, Kumagoro? Are you hungry, too? Should we have lunch now, or what?  
  
"Okay buh-bye! I haveta go now, na no da. Good songs today, Red! Buh bye, buh bye!"  
  
"YOU FREAK! YOU MOTHER..."  
  
Well, I don't know what else he said, because I'm not listening. I'm hungry. I wonder if I can go to lunch with Bad Luck. Shu-chan's sure to be hungry, too. Singing like that can really work up an appetite.  
  
"Didja have to bite his ear, Sakuma-san? Seriously." Ten looks a bit cross as I leave the bathroom. I wonder if he gets bored just leaning against the wall like that, waiting for me to finish doing whatever. Well, I've been naughty, apparently, and will be getting no sodas before my interviews.  
  
"Kumagoro did it."  
  
"Mmmhm." He sighs only slightly as we head down the hall towards the Bad Luck recording studio. "Kumagoro should be more careful, or he's going to get sued."  
  
"Yeah, Kumagoro," I reply, putting my roo-bunny on my head, "Quit being such a troublemaker. No sodas for you, either, Kumagoro."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
It's been about two years since the release of Bad Luck's first album. It was a great one, you know. Very big. Nice, peppy, easy to listen to happy-songs.   
  
But, the second album, "Critical Sunshine". My god. Nothing. Nothing can compare. The first time I heard it, I experienced sensations this old body hasn't known in a decade. It was lyrical, like a sonnet celebrating love itself, a man rejoicing in perfection, a gift to the very concept of sound.   
  
I was ecstatic. And I was heart-broken.  
  
How can you feel so wonderful, and so horrible at the same time?  
  
I listened to it for sixteen hours straight.  
  
And then, when I could finally move, I melted the CD in the microwave.  
  
I've yet to purchase a replacement copy. Well, I know Shuichi would give me one, if I asked.  
  
It doesn't matter, I know all the songs, every note, by heart. I'd never forget. No matter how much I want to forget that the passion, the purity, the raw emotion in that voice, I can't.  
  
Anyway, the second album was -gigantic-. They even ended up with a single on the dance charts in England. Pretty cool, huh?  
  
Yeah. I don't think the third album is going very well, though. They've been working on it for a -long- time.  
  
And Shu-chan looks tired. He has dark circles under his eyes. I should get Molly to send him some of my eye cream. Remember to remind her, okay Kumagoro?  
  
Don't want Shu-chan's face to fall off.  
  
Anyway, Hiroshi-kun is telling this great story right now about this time when he tried to go surfing. And everyone is laughing, so I don't want to interrupt. Instead, I just smile at Shu-chan, who is eating some vanilla Pocky instead of the apple which K told him to eat.  
  
They don't seem to mind that I come down to the NG cafe to eat lunch with them when I can. Tohma-kun usually has meetings, and he doesn't eat real food anyway. Not anymore. He's on a health kick now.  
  
And Noriko doesn't usually come to NG when Nittle Grasper isn't recording.   
  
Sometimes, I think, I live for lunch.  
  
We all laugh as Hiroshi-kun stands up and does an impression of his wipe-out. We laugh, but Shu-chan's laugh sounds so hollow.  
  
I know that laugh.  
  
"Can Kumagoro have a Pocky stick, too?"  
  
Shu-chan nods and holds out the box to me. All the motion in the entire cafe grinds to a halt. Mannequin people are locked into place. Shu-chan's so giving. I hope he doesn't give everything. I hope he saves some of himself for later. For when he needs himself again.  
  
"Thanks, na no da!"  
  
"Hey, I heard you had a duet with Tsunami Puppets today. How did that go?"  
  
I shrug. "Sing, sing, shiny, shiny." I smile at him, hoping he will smile back at me. "Bought a new manga. Lend it to you when I'm finished if you'll trade me one of yours. You know which one I want!" I flutter my eyelashes at him with impossible hope. He's my friend, so I can ask to trade with him and not worry about taking advantage.  
  
"Sure. Uh..." Shuichi's eyes roll upward, as if he's considering his bangs, "Uh, maybe. I don't know."  
  
In two years, Shuichi's grown a little. He's 21 now. His face is a little leaner, a bit harder looking. There's two blue streaks dyed into his hair, like wilted antennae caressing his cheeks on either side. And he has an eyebrow piercing, which I think really suits him. The circlet is purple with a silver bead. Shuichi is such a splash of color. Like someone took all my crayons and melted them in the microwave.  
  
With his CD. The CD I can't listen to...because...  
  
God, he's so skinny. His shirt is falling off at the shoulder. I have to restrain myself from pulling it up.   
  
He's changed. Yes, I think he has definitely changed some over the past two years. Not quite as hyper. Not as free with his emotions anymore. Which isn't to say he's become a block of ice, or anything. He's still gold-hearted, kind, wonderful Shuichi. Even if he does exercise a bit more caution these days.  
  
"How's your album coming?"  
  
"It's okay." Okay? Just okay? Oh, Shuichi, what could possibly be wrong with what I heard today? I wish I could ask you. I don't know how. "I go back to the hotel at night and listen to the tapes, and it's just -off-. I don't think we'll ever make an album as good as 'Critical Sunshine' again."  
  
Hotel? Kumagoro, did he say -hotel-?  
  
"You and Yuki-san moved into a hotel? Oh, I lived in a great hotel for a while after our third album came out. Real American hamburgers brought right up by room service -every- night. Hamburgers are really good, like with mustard and sprouts and pickles and olives and..."  
  
"No, Yuki isn't..." Shuichi's hand shakes a bit as he pulls up the box of Pocky to find another stick. "Yuki is...not at the hotel with me."  
  
"Oh?" Where's Yuki-san? I hope he didn't kick Shu-chan out again. But, maybe he did. I'm not always fond of that guy. But, when he is nice and makes Shu-chan happy, then I don't mind him so much.   
  
But, that guy is perhaps the MOST unshiny person I've ever met.  
  
"Yeah." As Shuichi pulls out his Pocky, the sleeve of his long orange shirt falls down on his forearm, revealing a bandaged wrist.  
  
I'm staring at Shuichi's arm, and Shuichi is staring at me with the utmost embarrassment. He looks shocked for a moment, and then he calmly puts his arm under the table and pulls his sleeve back down. "It's nothing," he whispers.  
  
I can't help myself. I catch his injured wrist in my left hand and watch him wince. "It's something. People don't make that face when it's nothing."  
  
"Yeah, well, it's nothing important. Really." He sounds more like he's trying to convince himself rather than convince me.  
  
I want to ask him more questions, but he's already wiggled out of my grasp due to K pointing a magnum at his head and demanding that he eat his apple.   
  
Oh, Kumagoro.  
  
I have a feeling that the next time I see Yuki-san, I'm going to want to do more than bite a sliver out of his ear.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"You can't do this," Ten says, leaning against my limo. We're both staring up at the glassy windows which decorate the Crystal Harbor Plaza. Not quite as intimidating of a building as the Osakaji International, but still very classy.  
  
"Why not? Shuichi is my friend. I can go and see him if I want, na no DA!"  
  
Ten sighs. He thinks I don't know what a friend is, that I call everyone my friend, but I know the difference between what they are and what Shuichi is.   
  
"No, Sakuma-san. I mean..." Ten's hair blows in his face, the dark locks obscuring his eyes, "You know you do this sort of thing, and you just end up getting hurt. This won't turn out good for you."  
  
"But..."  
  
"What about Kelly, that English drummer from Ku Ku Clock?"  
  
"Now, you know that..."  
  
"What about Akino, the front man for Ipso Facto Dilemma?"  
  
"That was different and..."  
  
"And Yukiro the saxophonist from Corinth Overdrive?"  
  
"Kumagoro was taking SAX LESSONS!"  
  
"What about Tomi?"  
  
My heart skips a beat. Tomi. Tomi wasn't... Tomi was... Tomi was Tomi. That was a different situation, altogether. Tomi was before. Way before.  
  
I still miss him.  
  
So does Kumagoro. Kumagoro probably misses Tomi more than I do.  
  
My plush friend slips off my head, but I catch him before he can fall onto the pavement. Kumagoro whispers that it's alright, it wasn't my fault. Sometimes things just fall down. Sometimes you just can't defy the laws of nature.  
  
"I'm sorry, Sakuma-san. That was way out of line." Ten pats me on the shoulder. "I just don't want to see you get hurt."  
  
Kumagoro smiles at me, and I smile at him. Silly, silly. Ryu-chan and Kuma-chan just want to take the hurt away. Only Sakuma Ryuichi, famous singer, could hurt someone. Ryu-chan would never...ever... Ryu-chan wants to make sure everyone feels good again.  
  
I can't help but hear Tomi's voice in the back of my mind. His scared, tired, trembling voice. "Take the pain away Ryuichi, one more time, for me..."  
  
"I'm just going to make sure Shu-chan is okay, Ten. That's all."  
  
"Alright. I'll be waiting. Give me a call if you need anything."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The elevator to the tenth floor of Crystal Harbor Plaza is playing a musak version of a Nittle Grasper song. Really, it's cracking me up. Someone, somehow, translated Noriko's part into harp! I wonder if I can get a tape of this.   
  
The nice woman at the front desk did recognize me. Bad. But, she didn't scream. Good. She had a funky accent. Amusing. I gave her an autograph which said, "Sparkle dream croissant bunny. -Ryuichi" I've found, in time, that autographs don't really have to make sense. So, I just put down whatever words are rattling around in my head.  
  
The metal doors open, revealing a deserted hallway that smells lemony fresh. There's a mirror right across from the elevator, and I check my face for the effects of gravity. Nope. Still all in place, smile and all. I push my cowboy hat off to let it hang by the cord at the back of my neck, and remove my sunglasses. No need for disguises with Shu-chan.  
  
There are only four suites on this floor. I wonder why Shu-chan isn't staying in the penthouse. He could afford it now, if he wanted. Well, maybe he is not used to having that much room.   
  
1004. Here it is!  
  
"Knock knock, clock clock, open up silly sesame!"  
  
There's a dull thump against the door, and then a groggy voice. "Go away."  
  
"Awwww. But, Shu-chan, Kumagoro wants to see your hotel room! Do you have hamburgers in there? I want hamburgers, too! No fair!"  
  
There's another thump, one I probably couldn't have heard if I didn't have my ear pressed up against the door. "Ryuichi?"  
  
"Surprise, it's me!"  
  
The door lock clicks, and it opens a few inches, revealing only darkness. The pungent scent of spilled alcohol wafts out, burning Kumagoro's nose. Yeah. Liquor and something that smells a lot like burnt hair.  
  
With one finger, I push the heavy door open enough to step inside. The draft from the hallway sucks it closed behind me as if the hotel itself was gasping at the scene revealed within. There's only one source of light, a crack between the sheaths of heavy drapery on the floor to ceiling window at the far side of the room. As Shuichi sits back down in a plush chair, the line of light cuts across his left shoulder, illuminating only the very tips of his longest bits of pink hair.  
  
From what I can make out in this shadowy room, everything else in here, besides the chair and the small table next to it, has been tossed from it's original spot. Paintings hang at scandalous angles. Vases have been smashed, leaving their bouquets in pools of stagnant water. The broken television, ripped from the wall and half-covered with a bed sheet, looks like a definite fire hazard.   
  
"Shuichi..." I whisper.  
  
"Yuki called me. He calls me every night. Every single night, you know that? The man who never could be bothered to call me before, now calls me all the time." Shuichi emits the most pathetic sounding laugh I've ever heard. "Funny, isn't it?"  
  
"Have you been drinking?"  
  
Shuichi's head droops down so far I'm surprised his nose doesn't hit his chest. "I smashed all the liquor. So, if you wanted some...I'm really sorry."  
  
I try to walk forward a bit, but with every step I crunch something underfoot. Kumagoro advises immense care. I don't like this at all. This is extremely unhappy and decidedly un-un-unshiny. I'm scared of... Shuichi is... This is just like I was after Tomi... I can't handle this. I just can't...  
  
So much pain. Too much pain. Numbness. Please, someone just take away my pain, too. I can't hold anymore. I'll let someone else make the decisions.  
  
"Shuichi, where is Yuki-san?" That's it. I can hear my voice, completely in control of everything. I'll just hold onto Kumagoro and wait. "Tell me what happened, Shuichi."  
  
"Yuki..." That's not the way Shuichi usually says that word. Not with venom. He says it with unbridled joy. "Yuki is wherever Yuki is.   
  
I finally make it to where Shuichi is sitting. Carefully, so as not to startle him, I kneel down in front of the chair. His right arm hangs limply off to one side. With unwavering confidence, I take his hand, curl my fingers around his, and squeeze. "Tell me, Shuichi."  
  
"It...it started as a silly little fight. But, he'd been drinking and it...he'd always been cold, but he's never been vicious, Ryuichi. He pinned me against the wall, and... How could he? Of all people, how could -he-? And all the while, he was saying such awful things. Cruel things. About how many others he'd had while we were living together. Names. Dates. Like he'd stored it all up, memorized it, just to hurt me. Like he'd planned to break me and toss me aside all along. That hurt the most. Much more than the pain of what he did to my body. It hurt...so much more." He says all this, and not a single tear falls. His voice is hollow. So empty and far away. Where is Shuichi? Who took away Shuichi?  
  
Yuki Eiri did, that's who.  
  
May I interject here that Yuki Eiri is a complete, total, and unforgivable asshole? I wonder where K gets those guns.  
  
"Gods, Shuichi," I pull his hand up and place it on his knee. If I could somehow will every happy thought I've ever had into Shuichi's body through our clasped hands, I would. "What about Hiroshi? Why didn't you go..."  
  
"He's busy with wedding plans. I don't want to stomp on his or Ayaka's happiness. Suguru-kun's oblivious to everything besides his keyboard. I didn't want them to know, anyway. So K put me here until he can help me find a decent apartment." Shuichi looks up suddenly. "Don't tell them. Please, Ryuichi? I don't think I could... If they pitied me, it would only remind me."  
  
"Alright."  
  
Shuichi sighs. As he exhales, he practically pours out of the chair, ending up as a heap, quivering in my lap. "Things are so fucked up. Everything is so confusing and so...lonely. It's like, sometimes, I try so hard to make the pain go away, with anger, with crying, with pills, with more pain. But, when it does go away, I get so numb. I can't even remember if I'm really Shindou Shuichi anymore, or just sitting in a corner, watching someone else pretend to be Shindou Shuichi."  
  
"I know." His hair is really soft. I know I probably shouldn't be touching it. I shouldn't even be here. Because I know what's going to happen next. I'll want to take care of him. I'll bring him home, put him into my life, try to fix this broken Shuichi. But, I can never fix anyone. It's just like Ten said.  
  
How can a broken person fix another broken person? It never works.  
  
Never.  
  
But, what can I do? I can't leave him here. If Shuichi gets much lower, he might try something drastic.  
  
Then there really would be no Shuichi.  
  
What do you think, Kumagoro? How do I get into situations like this?   
  
"Shuichi," I say as I pull him up by his bony shoulders, "You're going to come with Ryu-chan now." His lips part as if he is going to say something, but I don't give him the chance. "You're going to come with Kumagoro and me. I don't know if... I can't make the pain go away, Shuichi. But, I can promise that you won't have to be alone. Okay?"  
  
Shuichi nods his agreement into my chest. "I'm so tired, Ryuichi. I'm so very...very tired now."  
  
"Alright. You sleep." As Shuichi nuzzles against my filmy silver shirt, his eyes closing with exhaustion, I pick up Kumagoro and rummage around in his pouch until I find my cellphone.   
  
Beep. Beep. Beep. Ring.  
  
"Ten here."  
  
"Come up to room 1004. I need you to carry Shuichi downstairs..."  
  
Ten sighs, exasperated beyond belief. "This is no good at all, Sakuma-san."  
  
"I know."  
  
I know.  
  
But, I have to do it. Don't I, Kumagoro?  
  
Ah, don't look at me like that.   
  
This is half your fault, too.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Oh my goodness," Molly declares. Ten's carrying a rag-doll Shuichi as we enter my penthouse. "Has there been an accident?"  
  
Ten grumbles something unintelligible as he bends over to place Shuichi on my couch. With the lighting in here, I can finally get a better view of the sleeping singer. How did I not notice how really, really bad he looks earlier today? Or earlier this week? Even in his sleep, the circles under his eyes seem immense, and his arms are like sticks of bone. You can see his hip bones poking into the sides of his jeans. He obviously hasn't been eating, except when K forces him.   
  
He seems half-dead, and laying on the couch like that, he looks like a discarded confection. Someone took a rainbow popsicle out of the freezer, got tired of it after only one lick, and threw it on the sidewalk to let it melt.   
  
"Say, that's the little fella from Bad Luck, isn't it?" Molly asks, bending down next to the couch. She puts her fingers against Shuichi's forehead, I suppose to discern if he is ill. Deciding Shuichi isn't plague-ridden, Molly looks up at me, her lips pursed. "Sakuma-san, you can't do this sort of thing, dontcha know. We've talked about this..."  
  
"Don't bother," Ten replies with a huff, "He's not listening."  
  
"Deary me. At least the other ones you bring home are conscious."  
  
"Sometimes," Ten adds with a quirked eyebrow. I suppose that... Well, usually Molly doesn't find out who has been in my apartment until she discovers the mess the next morning.  
  
"Molly, will you get a blanket for Shu-chan? I've got to..."  
  
As I pull out my cellphone, Ten catches my wrist. "I'm warning you Sakuma-san. Don't do this. I'm not afraid to knock you out. You know I can."  
  
Ten's touch on my wrist causes me to flinch. He wouldn't hurt me, really. But...  
  
I think of what that Yuki did to Shu-chan. Just beyond those bandages on his impossibly tiny wrists are the bruises left by such devastating cruelty it makes my heart pound with anger. I yank my wrist away from Ten with so much force I end up hitting myself in the shoulder.   
  
"You're dismissed for the evening, Ten-san," I say through clenched teeth.   
  
Ten turns on his heel, cool as you please, and heads toward the door. Before he exits, he mutters one last thing. "I'm not cleaning it up this time, Sakuma-san."  
  
I clench my fist and look over at Molly and Shu-chan. She's tucking the corners of the blanket around his shoulders, patting his hair just like a mother might do. "He's just looking out for you, dontcha know, Sakuma-san."  
  
"I have Kumagoro for that."  
  
"Yes, of course." Molly stands up and bushes her hands against her long black skirt. "I'll be back in the morning. If either of you get hungry, there are snacks in the fridge, hm?"  
  
"Thanks, Molly, na no da. Shu-chan and Ryu-chan will be alright, donchaknow?" Molly laughs. She thinks it's funny when I try to imitate her Wisconsin accent.   
  
"Alright, alright, Ryuichi." Hm. She only calls me that when she's being my friend rather my employee. Molly smiles and reaches up to touch my shoulder as she looks back at the pink-haired punk sleeping on my couch. "He reminds me of you, you know?"  
  
I know.  
  
That's what worries me.  
  
Molly shuts the door gently on the way out, leaving me alone in my penthouse apartment with Shuichi. I slump down on the floor next to the couch and place Kumagoro on the glass coffee table. Behind me, I can hear Shuichi's tiny half-snores, soothing me with the fact that he obviously isn't as dead as he looks. I unfold my cellphone and press in the code.  
  
"Dial, dial, ring, ring, sing, sing, telephone song."  
  
Kumagoro picks up the chorus and hums the rest of the telephone song for me.   
  
On the other end, I hear a click. "Hello?"  
  
"Tohma-kun! Guess who!"  
  
"What's up, Ryuichi?"  
  
I lean back, settling against the couch. "I need a flavor-favor to savor."  
  
"Ryuichi..." (Tomha gets suspicious -really- quick. That's why he's NG's president, na no da. He can tell what people are up to, even if -they- don't know -themselves-. It's creepy...a bit.)  
  
"Bad Luck is on break," I say, my voice deepening a bit, "For the next week."  
  
"What are you talking about? They have a CD to finish."  
  
"I have Shuichi. He's in bad shape."  
  
"How bad?" That's Tohma for you. If it isn't near-death, you shouldn't be skipping work.  
  
"Post-Tomi bad."  
  
A deep sigh comes from my friend's end of the phone. "Alright."  
  
The next part...I don't really want to say. "Tohma, did you know?"  
  
There's a long pause. "Yeah."  
  
"Why, Tohma?" Why didn't you do something? Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you find someone to take care of Shuichi?  
  
"It's complicated, Ryuichi. You shouldn't have gotten involved. This isn't the sort of thing you can deal with. I'll send K over tomorrow to pick up Shuichi."  
  
My head hurts. Too much strain from trying to keep focused on something other than being shiny shiny. Can't let Tohma know, though. "No. Shuichi is going to stay with me a while."  
  
"Ryuichi..." The annoyance Tohma hides behind his professional demeanor is slipping faster than an ASK song from the charts. "Alright. I'll smooth things over with your schedules. But promise me -one- thing, Ryuichi. I will only do this for you if you make this promise."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Promise me you will -not- go confront Yuki Eiri."  
  
"Tohma..."  
  
"Promise me, Ryuichi. And make Kumagoro promise, too."  
  
I cross my fingers. "We promise."  
  
"Now uncross your fingers and promise again."  
  
Damn.  
  
How does he -do- that?  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
In The Next Chapters: The horrible misadventures of Ryuichi and Shuichi continue. Can two completely broken people somehow help each other to become whole again? Why would Yuki, of all people, do such a horrible thing to Shuichi? Will the ear-biting episode come back to haunt Ryuichi? And what, exactly, happened with Tomi? Will Ten pound Ryuichi into hamburger for being such an idiot? Will Kumagoro stop being such a troublemaker? All this and more, in the upcoming chapters of Pianissimo Butterfly.  
  
Author Notes: Well, this is my first Gravitation story. Needed a bit of a break from Rurouni Kenshin stuff.   
  
As you can tell, this takes place two years after the Gravitation anime. In this chapter, Shuichi is, for understandable reasons, I hope, a bit different. He'll be more Shuichi-like in upcoming chapters, but not -exactly- like he is in the anime/manga. Two years would mature him a bit, I think.   
  
I don't subscribe to the idea that Ryuichi has split personalities, exactly. Nor do I think he's exactly schizophrenic. I do, however, think that fame (among other things) has made him necessarily a bit -off-. I think he -does- have problems concentrating sometimes, as well as definite difficulty interacting with and relating to other people. Intense or strange situations seem to cause him to flip out a bit, which is why NG (in this story) orders his life so precisely.   
  
I also think that, under normal conditions, Yuki would NEVER EVER EVER EVER hurt physically hurt Shuichi to any discernable extent on purpose. (Might bop him on the head, but never -hurt- him severely.) So, before you get up-in-arms about the OOCness of Yuki doing such a horrible thing to his beloved, please wait and read the rest of the story. For, I believe that when certain actions and motivations unfold, it will make much more sense.  
  
Well, hope you liked it so far. I'd appreciate it if you let me know what you think. Your reviews will help me steer the story. :D 


	2. Softy Tasty

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 2: Softy Tasty  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Before I was Sakuma Ryuichi, lead singer of the immensely popular band 'Nittle Grasper', I was Sakuma Ryuichi, part-time clerk of the immensely popular ice cream store 'Softy Tasty'.  
  
You don't believe me, do you?  
  
It's true.   
  
After I graduated from high school with a C average, my parents doled out the cash to help me enroll in a third-rate college where I was studying 'Music Theory'. It's a lot harder than it sounds. Anyway, I didn't like the way they analyzed music, broke it up, tore it into bits, made it into Math and History. Music is music, as far as I can tell, and not that other stuff. I hated studying, and it seemed very possible that I'd flunk out in the first year.  
  
What I really wanted to do was spend most of my time at clubs, listening to my favorite bands. And, when I couldn't do that, Tohma and I jammed in his parents' basement.  
  
Tohma's parents are loaded. Mine are rather middle-class travel agents from Kanagawa. For as long as I can remember, Tohma has known everyone. I mean seriously, we couldn't go anywhere without Tohma noticing someone he knew, or someone running up and saying hello to Tohma. The man has natural skills at networking, and an impressive knack for making connections.  
  
Me, not really so much. I never have been good with people. I liked movies, and manga, and using my imagination whenever possible. People with large imaginations tend to get looked at a bit funny if they try to use them over the age of 13 or so.  
  
Tohma and I were the perfect pair. I liked him because I could let him do all the talking. In any social situation, I just had to sit back and let Tohma do the work, and gain friends by my mere association with him. (The Tohma Show is quite amusing to watch.) Anyway, I suppose that Tohma liked me because I was an oddity. I had the spontaneity and imagination which kept his life interesting.  
  
We had met in high school. Tohma didn't actually go to my school. However, he struck up a conversation with me one day when he heard me speaking English to someone. After that, we were pretty much inseperable. I should note that we were never -together- in the romantic sense. We were definitely very close friends, though.  
  
But, I digress.   
  
I was living in this awful one-room flat infested with cockroaches and lacking central air. To combat the sweltering heat of summer, when I had the cash, I would go down the block to the Softy Tasty and have an ice cream. When one of their workers unexpectedly quit one afternoon, I pitched in, deciding it would be better than going back to my room and sweating all over my guitar.  
  
Next thing I knew, I had a part-time job.  
  
My sempai-in-crime for the nighttime shifts I took was Yoshimi Tomiji.  
  
Everyone called him Tomi.  
  
This is going to sound stupid, but I liked Tomi straight away. (I like most people straight away, however.) Tomi about three years older than me, and he was unimaginably smart. But, it wasn't really the sort of smarts you noticed right off the bat. Tomi wasn't the kind of person who would try to make other people feel bad about how much they didn't know. He didn't use his intelligence to boss people around or make them feel low, but rather tried to help them feel better about themselves. I liked that a lot.  
  
He was about to graduate from college early with a degree in writing, or journalism, or something like that. But, mostly what he wanted to do was to write children's books. Late at night in the back of the Softy Tasty, he would tell me the stories to pass the time.  
  
His favorite ones were about a magical bunny named Kumagoro. Kumagoro could only speak to children, you see. And mostly he spoke to lonely, scared, sad, and sick children. He'd try to help them out, but he was also a big troublemaker. Kumagoro didn't mean to cause trouble, but he just didn't understand the human world correctly, so that led to problems.  
  
When Tomi ran out of stories, I'd sing him whatever song I might be working on at the time. We had so much fun there, late at night at the Softy Tasty.  
  
Yes. I think I had as much fun there as I ever had on stage. I didn't know anything about the world, then. I didn't know about sex, or people, or love. I'd certainly never had a boyfriend or a girlfriend. (Even though Tohma tried to set me up on occasion. What disasters THOSE were!)  
  
I definitely thought the worst thing that could happen in my life would be to flunk out of school and have to tell my parents they'd wasted their money.   
  
And I thought the -best- thing that could happen would be I'd somehow pass, and end up teaching music to middle schoolers. I'd spend my weekends playing in our band at some crummy (but wonderful) club somewhere. I'd be just a normal guy, making ends meet, living a regular life.  
  
I didn't know anything.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Oh, I think I drank too many sodas." I looked up at the ceiling. At night, the lights in the Softy Tasty cast everything in this barely discernable blue glow. The store sat on the corner of the block, and so two whole walls were covered in floor-to-ceiling windows. I imagined it was a lot like working in a snow globe. Except, we kept all the snow in vats and turned it into ice cream.  
  
Tomi chuckled and adjusted his paper hat. He had this unruly black hair that was so light, it bounced when he moved. I called it 'puppet hair', because it didn't seem like it belonged on a person at all. He just never seemed to be able to make it do anything but stick out at funny angles. "Have I ever made you my specialty?"  
  
"Specialty?"  
  
"It's called a Train Wreck." Tomi picked up one of the medium sized cups and a spoon. "One spoon full of every flavor, and a sprinkle of every single topping."  
  
Late at night like that, no one ever came into the Softy Tasty. I don't even know why they kept the place open 24 hours. But, they did, and so we passed the time however possible. Currently, I was sitting on a stool, half-heartedly trying to finish some homework.   
  
"Sounds deadly."  
  
"Why have only one flavor when you can have them all, that's what I think, na no da." Tomi winked at me and set to work. He was just like a really big kid, sometimes. We were listening to a tape of my current favorite band, 'Syrup'. Now that I think about it, they were just a really lame Japanese knockoff of The Cure, but I had no idea at the time. Tomi bopped around, lip synching to the words, using his spoon as a microphone when he wasn't digging it into the buckets of ice cream. He kept bumping into things because he was as clumsy as a monkey in a ballet. But, he didn't care, and it was really funny.  
  
Tomi was all limbs. I remember him being tall, no, gangly. Like a hastily drawn stick figure in a 3D world. Tohma would later call him 'bendy boy', because he was a lot like those plastic toys you could get where you could bend in the limbs into all sorts of strange configurations.  
  
"Here, Ryu," Tomi handed me his ice cream concoction. It looked a lot like a train wreck, indeed, with nuts and sprinkles and a zillion different colors of soft frozen cream. "Okay, the important part is to eat the first bites with your eyes closed. If you know what flavors you are getting, it doesn't work."  
  
"But, how, exactly..."  
  
"Just try."  
  
So, I did. I took the cup of ice cream, closed my eyes, and brought it to my lips. Tomi was really right. When you don't know what flavors you are getting, when every bite is different, it's really fun. Like being on some sort of game show. Of course, with my eyes closed, I was getting ice cream all over my mouth.  
  
And then, then there was a different taste. Very minty, but gently so. Instead of the freezing cold of the ice cream, this was warm. Warm as a beach in mid-spring, after you've waited all winter to feel the sun once more. The warmth lapped at the corners of my mouth, danced into the divot beneath my bottom lip and returned again to brush against my lips. When it finally left, I found myself breathless.  
  
I opened my eyes to find Tomi's face only a few inches from mine. His blue eyes were staring at me with magnetic intensity. So guileless, so lacking in the harsh tones which coated every other person's motivations.   
  
"I wasn't planning that from the beginning," Tomi said.  
  
"I think you were."  
  
"Well," Tomi's eyes sparkled with childlike mischief, "Either way, was it so bad?"  
  
I didn't know what to say. It wasn't bad. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world. I knew right then that, with Tomi in my life, things would never be normal and regular. Tomi took everything bland and dull, swirled it together, topped it with sprinkles, and made it amazing.  
  
I didn't know what to say at all.  
  
So, instead, I just took what remained of my ice cream, and smushed it into Tomi's face.  
  
And Tomi reached into the nearby vat of vanilla with his hand, scooped out a sizeable amount, and spread it into my hair.  
  
After that, we were laughing so hard, chasing each other around the Softy Tasty, having a crazy sprinkle war. By the time we collapsed on the floor from exhaustion, the place was a disaster zone on the magnitude of Godzilla. It took us the rest of our shift to clean everything up. I was sticky from the tip of my head down, and whenever I touched anything, I made this velcro -sssshhhppth- sound which made us both break into giggles again.  
  
It had started raining sometime around 7:00, and by the time Tomi and I were off the clock, and standing under the awning of the Softy Tasty, it was raining 'Crazy Blue Elephants', as Tomi would say. I adjusted my backpack and watched Tomi look up the road. He had about three blocks to run to catch his bus. No doubt, with as clumsy as he was, he'd fall flat on his face six times before he got there.  
  
"Tomi..." I even liked saying his name. I felt full of butterflies, like my skin would literally break open to reveal some insane taxidermist had stuffed me full of fluttering insects. "I only live one block from here."  
  
I have no idea what Tomi's reaction was, because I had a hard time looking at him right then. All I do know is that I heard him say softly, "It isn't like that, Ryuichi, really. I didn't...I don't want to make you...do anything..."  
  
"I want..." Somehow, I managed to find his hand. I threaded my sticky fingers through his, just to make sure he wouldn't get away. "I want all the flavors, Tomi. You promised all the flavors."  
  
Before I knew it, we were running through the rain. It as just like in one of those old colorized movies, where the guy and the girl don't have an umbrella, and they are running through the rainy streets at dawn, breathless and alive. I suppose it was a little different because Tomi was a guy and I was a guy.  
  
Well, last I checked, I still am a guy.  
  
Anyway, we ended up at my dingy little flat, dripping ice cream flavored rain onto the floor. Between giggles, we peeled off each other's clothes. It was a lot like taking the wrapping off of a melted candy bar. Tug a little here, slide a little there, end up getting chocolate all over your fingers. Just as the Train Wreck, it was cold and hot. Chills from our rain-pelted skin, and warmth from tongues and greedy hands. There was passion, sure, but also laughter, and tenderness. All the flavors of Wonderful, that's what Tomi gave to me.  
  
It far exceeded my expectations of the best thing that could ever happen in my life.  
  
We ended up on the floor, wrapped in the one blanket I'd had the sense to bring with me from my parents' home, watching the rain out of my only window. Tomi had his head tucked into my neck, and I could feel his eyelashes move against my skin as he looked around. He had his arm draped across my chest, his gentle fingers stroking the baby hairs right behind my ear.  
  
"Tomi?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"Can we do that again, and again, and forever?"  
  
Tomi touched his fingertip to the end of my nose. "But, when would we eat? Unless you want to do both at the same time, na no da."  
  
"Well, you can never have too much of the best things, right?"  
  
"That's right!" Tomi said with a laugh, his warm breath slithering across my neck as he giggled, "Ryu-chan, I think this may be the happiest I've ever been."  
  
"Tomi?"  
  
"That's me, na no da!"  
  
"Is it too soon to say that I think I'm falling in love with you?"  
  
Tomi rolled over and used his lanky arms and legs to push himself up until he was on top of me, his puppet hair falling onto my brow and cheeks. "Your eyes are shining," he said as he leaned down to kiss me, "Shiny, shiny. Like a brand new coin, like all the crinkly packages of candy in a vending machine. That's what I liked first about you, Ryuichi. Your eyes never lie."  
  
But, I was lying.  
  
I wasn't just falling in love with him.  
  
I was already there.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I wake up at god-knows-what-o'clock, drenched in sweat and shaking violently. I've had that same dream again, that one where I can't find Tomi. I go to all the places we used to go. The apartment where we lived after the first Nittle Grasper LP was released. The clubs where I played. The library where Tomi worked in the children's section. 'Jingles' toy store. Our favorite restaurants. The arcade across from the river. My little cockroach infested flat. I'm running backwards in time, going back to the beginning.  
  
Finally, I'm running towards the Softy Tasty. I know he has to be there. He has to be there, in that fake snow globe, wearing his paper hat, using a spoon for a microphone and bumping into things.  
  
But, there is no Softy Tasty. It never existed. And Tomi never existed.   
  
And I can't remember if Tomi was really real, or just a dream in the first place.  
  
Kumagoro.  
  
Where is Kumagoro?  
  
I throw the blankets off my bed, scrambling around on my stomach in the dark. Where is he? The room is spinning, and I feel like I am going to throw up.   
  
"Kumagoro."  
  
I can't see anything, and I fall off my bed onto my shoulder, which hurts, but is more surprising than anything. I cry out and roll onto my other side.  
  
"KUMAGORO!"  
  
Why won't he answer me? Was Tomi really all a dream, after all? Where are they? Why have they left me here...  
  
All alone.  
  
"TOMI!" On my hands and knees, I'm heaving. I can't take in enough air. It's so dark. I can't see anything. Where am I? Am I in my house in America? Am I in my apartment in Tokyo where I lived with Tomi? Where? "Tomi, where are you? I'm scared! I don't like it here."  
  
Finally, I feel something against my ankle. Something soft and light. Kumagoro.  
  
Kuma-chan climbs into my arms and leans against my chest. He says he's so sorry for leaving me alone like that. He was just doing his midnight patrol, making sure everything was safe around here so I wouldn't have to worry. Everything is going to be fine now, and he won't leave again, so I can go back to sleep. He'll keep watch, he'll watch and make sure I don't have any more bad dreams.  
  
"I was so worried, Kumagoro."  
  
Kumagoro nods and begins to sing the sleepytime song with me. Tomi always sang that, horrible and off-key, whenever he was tired. It's a very silly song.  
  
I'm the moon, I'm the stars...  
  
Shiny, shiny, sea of blue...  
  
I'm going to sail to sleepytime...  
  
On a boat made for two.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
There are voices coming from the next room as I wake up. I'm curled up on the floor, using Kumagoro for a pillow. Someone's put a blanket over me. Molly, I suppose. She used to have Ten come in and put me back in bed whenever she found me sleeping in strange places. But, nowadays, she just lets me sleep.  
  
"Coffee, Shindou-san?"  
  
"Yeah, thanks..."   
  
"So where were we?"  
  
"You were telling me about Sakuma-san. About that name he was yelling last night." Shuichi's voice is stil very drained and flat, like he's the ghost of Shuichi trying to talk to us from beyond the curtain of death.  
  
"Oh. Tomi. Right. So sad about that. I didn't know him, but from what I understand, it just broke poor Sakuma-san's heart. Sakuma-san was a real mess for a long time. Seguchi-san ended up putting him in a hospital because everyone was worried..."  
  
Shuichi cuts her off. "Ohhh, so -that's- what happened. I always wondered why Nittle Grasper postponed their first tour. It seemed like such a horrible decision."  
  
I pull the blanket over my head. I wish people wouldn't talk about me when I'm not around. Well, I suppose I am around but...  
  
I wonder if Shuichi and I can have donuts for breakfast.  
  
"Yes. The doctors were able to get him off the liquor and the drugs, but..." I hear the clinking of a mug against my glass coffee table, "Having such a horrible thing happen, and the subsequently becoming the most famous singer in Japan was a devastating combination. Well, maybe not exactly that but...you have to understand, Shindou-san, he's fragile."  
  
Am I fragile? I'm not. I can do many things for myself. Okay, maybe a little with Kumagoro's help sometimes, but really everyone has to have help -sometimes-.  
  
"You're trying to say that Ryuichi is crazy."  
  
Molly sighs. "No. I'm saying that it's a struggle for him to live his life. He's a gift to this world from some strange God, a gift of innocence and emotion and giving. But, in an imperfect world like ours, such gifts get dented and torn, sometimes until they are unrecognizable from their original form. They try to adapt to live in our world, but never truly succeed. If he wasn't famous, if he didn't have a million people in his face day after day, I think Sakuma-san might have been able to heal after a while..."  
  
I've had enough of this. Everyone has problems. Mine just happen to be a bit more noticable, maybe. Ugh. I'm so sweaty that the blanket is sticking to my skin. This is yucky, Kumagoro.  
  
No, I do not think it would be a good idea to trash my bedroom. What made you think of that, Kuma-chan?  
  
Stop biting me.  
  
Stop it.  
  
Don't be like that Kumagoro. We have a guest. I think it will be okay if we go take a shower. Just like any other regular day, right?  
  
I don't feel so good. I think I'm going to throw up.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Are you excited?"  
  
I nodded as Tomi buttoned up my shirt. Excited. Maybe. Scared out of my wits, definitely. Nittle Grasper had played some little clubs before, but nothing like this. I could hear the crowd, screaming, cheering, crazy. And it was just the opening band. -We- had an opening band! That was new.  
  
"I've got great big butterflies, Tomi." My hands were shaking. I just couldn't stay still. Noriko and Tohma were counting on me. There were scouts in the crowd, we'd heard. "I think I'm going to throw up."  
  
Tomi leaned forward, and slid his hands around my hips. He pulled me close, gave me the stillness that I needed with his arms. "Softly, softly, Ryu-chan. Softly, softly goes the airy butterfly. They are there to pick you up and help you soar. To fly above the clouds, to see all that can be seen. That's why the butterflies are there. You will fly and when you look down, you will see Tomi-chan looking back up at you, smiling."  
  
"You'll love me even if...if I don't..."  
  
"I've heard you sing, Ryuichi. Just sing. Don't worry about the other stuff." I felt Tomi's nose rooting around in my hair, ticking the top of my head with his breath, "And I love you, upside-down, backwards and forwards, inside-out, na no da!"  
  
Those butterflies stopped causing a riot. I was going to sing. For me, and Tohma, and Noriko, and everyone. But, mostly for Tomi. I stopped feeling afraid, and started feeling like I was the King of Christmas.  
  
Which was funny because that's when Tomi said, "Hey! I got you a present."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yup." Tomi took my hand and dragged me to the other side of my dressing room. "Where is it...uh..." He rummaged through his bookbag, he always had a lot of books. "I got it to cheer you up the next time you made a bad mark on a test. But..."  
  
"You make it sound like I am stupid."   
  
"Nah, they just ask stupid questions. You know far more about music than those crummy teachers, na no da." Tomi spun around, his puppet hair bouncing in synch with his excitement. He held up a plush pink bunny like it was a trophy. "Ta da! It's Kumagoro!"  
  
And so it was. After that day, there were three in our family. Tomi, and me, and Kumagoro.  
  
I was so excited. Things just kept getting better and better.  
  
But, I was a fool. I never noticed how pale Tomi looked that day.  
  
I never noticed how his hug was just a little more ginger, his breath just a little ragged.  
  
I wish...  
  
I would...  
  
I would still give it all away just to have Tomi back again.  
  
Everything. I'd give up everything.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
My mind is fuzzy. I think there may be some fungus growing in my head. Everything seems to have a buzz inside of it. The sink. Buzz. The toilet. Buzz. The walls. Buzz.  
  
Kumagoro is not helping me. Kumagoro is giving me the silent treatment.  
  
I grab my bunny friend and slog into my bedroom. I've got to help Shuichi. I don't want Shu-chan to end up like me. I love him too much to see him consigned to my fate.  
  
I'm forgetting something. What am I...  
  
I look around my buzzy buzz room. Crap. What am I forgetting?  
  
It doesn't matter. I need to take my pills, so maybe I can think straight and things will stop spinning and buzzing and I have a headache now. I could really use a drink, well actually more than a drink, but lets not talk about that because they don't let me keep alcohol here anyway.  
  
I want to smash something. No. Concentrate on Shuichi. Need...need...  
  
I walk into the front room of my apartment, Kumagoro in hand.   
  
Shuichi, who is wrapped in about a million blankets, looks like a tiny baby bird in a nest. He looks up from the mug of coffee in his hands...  
  
Well, that's a strange look, even for Shuichi. His mouth is open and he's making some sort of squeaking noise.  
  
"Sakuma...san?"  
  
"Yes?" Why is he calling me Sakuma-san? Well, I suppose that is my name.  
  
"You..." Shuichi's eyes grow wider than I've ever seen, "You're naked!"  
  
I look down. Ah. That must be what I forgot. Kumagoro, you knew about this, and you didn't say anything? Well, can't be helped, now. "So?"  
  
"Uh..." Shuichi looks up at the ceiling, "Um...nevermind."  
  
I shrug and head for the kitchen. Molly meets me halfway, "Oh good gracious, Sakuma-san. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz." She's wrapping me up in a towel she produced from somewhere, saying something I can't understand.  
  
"Molly..." I'm thirsty. My throat is very dry. "Bad...badly..."  
  
She nods and pulls me into the kitchen. "Always after the nightmares buzz. Buzz buzz sleeping pills. Buzz buzz do this to yourself buzz buzz buzz."  
  
I sit down and take the pills Molly hands me. Afterwards, I lean my head against the kitchen table. The wood is so cool against my skin.   
  
Why don't I ever listen? Maybe I should have listened to Ten, and Molly, and Tohma. I don't have any plans on how, exactly, I am supposed to help Shuichi. I'm not all that smart, na no da.   
  
"You alright, Sakuma-san?" The voice is Shuichi's, and it is coming from somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen door.   
  
Great. I brought Shuichi here to help him out, and now he's...  
  
Why does he keep calling me Sakuma-san? Aren't we friends? Haven't we been friends for a while? Is he angry with me? Probably. Everyone else is.  
  
"I'm alright." I attempt a smile in Shuichi's direction, even though the air is still a bit buzzy.  
  
Suddenly, Kumagoro hops off the table into my lap. He says he's sorry. He didn't mean to make trouble. He likes Shu-chan, too, and we're going to do our best. Yes.  
  
We'll do our best to make everything shiny shiny once more.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I'm not sure, exactly, what people do with time off.  
  
Shuichi and I are sitting in my living room. After Molly made us breakfast (eggs, pancakes, fruit, some mashed meat stuff that I don't know what it was, but it tasted good, and juice) she left to go to NG. She has to re-schedule all my appointments and go to the stockholders meeting.   
  
I -hate- stockholders meetings. I'm so glad I don't have to go this time. Tohma usually makes me go, but they are more boring than...  
  
Well, I can't really think of anything even remotely close to being that boring.  
  
It doesn't matter. Molly and Tohma manage my stock, anyway.  
  
Did you know that I own 10% of NG Productions?  
  
Yup.  
  
Apparently, I do.  
  
Anyway, Shu-chan and I are sitting in my front room, watching the city of Tokyo out of my giant floor-to-ceiling windows. Oh, oh, they have automagic blinds on them that you can control with a remote. Which is good, because sometimes photographers in helicopters try to get pictures of me.  
  
They're the bad photographers. The ones who don't get invited to NG press conferences. Naughty, naughty, na no da.  
  
Anyway, Shuichi didn't eat much at breakfast. Some eggs, I think, and a few bites of fruit. He has his back against one of my couches, and is tapping his fingers on his bony knees,   
  
The beat...I recognize. It's from the fourth track on Critical Sunshine.  
  
Which means he is thinking about Yuki-san.  
  
"Shu-chan?"  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"Wanna use my shower? I can give you some clothes, na no da. I have lots."  
  
Shuichi leans his head to one side, his eyes glazed over like some sort of zombie. "I guess."  
  
"I'll get dressed, too! And we can go somewhere. Let's go shopping, na no da!" Because Shuichi needs clothes. I tried to find all of his stuff in his hotel room before we left, but there just really wasn't much to find, two changes of clothes, his cellphone, and a portable CD player. I guess he did leave Yuki-san in a rush.  
  
I really want to go talk to Yuki-san. Where 'talk to' means 'yell at'. But, I promised Tohma.   
  
"Want to, Shu-chan? Want to go?"  
  
Shu-chan doesn't say anything, so I grab his hand, pull him up, and drag him into my bedroom. I think he is saying something, something like "Ow! Sakuma-san! What the..."  
  
"Here is the shower, see? Okay, towels and...soaps...and...I'm not sure what this stuff is for, but it smells nice."  
  
I start the water for Shuichi and leave him there.  
  
While Kumagoro and I are picking out some clothes, I'm trying to decide if this is a good plan or not. Maybe Shuichi doesn't want to go outside. Maybe I'm just making things worse. No. No, this is good.  
  
People should shower. And Shuichi did still smell a bit like liquor and grossness. So, that seems right. And going out will get his mind off Yuki-san, because I don't think Yuki-san took him out places very much.  
  
I put on a white silk shirt with ruffles at the neck and sleeve. I like ruffles. They are quite bouncy bouncy. I'll wear a black cowboy hat today, with a white brim. Yup and...um..red leather pants with the silver chains, don't you think, Kumagoro? Yes, Kumagoro agrees. Now, what should we find for Shuichi. Wait, no, lets have Shuichi pick out what he wants.  
  
I put on my tall black boots with all the straps and buckles. After that, I call Ten and tell him we're going. He's still grumpy, but he says okay. Then, I call my a couple of my favorite shops and tell them we're going to be coming.  
  
It is always best to call ahead, because then they can make sure that like a million zillion fans aren't there. I like my fans very much, but you can only write so many autographs before your hand wants to fall off.  
  
Okay, so I have all that done, but...  
  
Shuichi has been in the shower for quite a while now.  
  
Hm.  
  
"Shuuuuu-chan?" I knock on the bathroom door lightly, "Shuuuuu-chan?"  
  
Nothing.  
  
"Shuichi?"  
  
This seems quite ungood.  
  
"Shuichi, it's me, na no da. You okay?"  
  
I'm giving him to the count of five. Okay. One. Two. Three. Four. "Shuichi?" Five. He didn't answer, so I am going in. That's right, sn't it, Kumagoro? That's the right thing to do? I think so.   
  
I turn the bathroom door's knob and barge inside. Blinking into the brightness of my pink-and-yellow bathroom, I don't see Shuichi right away. The shower is running, but I can't see him standing in...  
  
And then I see it, just a twinge of beige and pink, a melting, shivering shadow on the other side of my transparent shower curtain, right near the ground. I pull back the corner of the curtain to find Shuichi curled in a ball. He has his knees gathered up to his chest, and his pink and blue striped hair is plastered to his cheeks and forearms where he has his head tucked.   
  
And, my god. There are...so many bruises. Blue-purple welts. And cuts, too. On his legs and his upper-arms, straight dashes of black-red. Some of them look fresher than others.   
  
I don't think...I don't think most of this was done by Yuki-san.  
  
Towel. Yes. Okay.  
  
I reach into the shower and turn off the water. Before Shuichi can get too cold, I drape my largest purple towel over him. He flinches a bit at my touch, but I dry him off really gentle, even though there are still pools of water at the bottom of my shower.  
  
"Shuichi..." I stroke his wet hair, pulling it away from his face with my fingernail. "Shuichi, it's just Ryuichi. Look at me, okay?"  
  
He slowly lifts his head. Does he even see me? He looks like he is far away, like everything which ever was Shuichi is getting dragged farther and farther away from the real world. His eyes are puffy and his skin is pink. I think maybe he's been crying a bit.   
  
"Want to tell me?"  
  
"I miss him," Shuichi whispers as I take a corner of the towel and dab at his face, "After all that, and I still miss him. Why? Why can't I just hate him, and be done?"  
  
"I don't know, Shu-chan. I don't know why it works that way." I wish Tomi were here. He'd know what to say. He'd know the answer to this.  
  
Shuichi leans his head back against the white tile of the shower, his unfocused eyes staring into space. "It hurts so much, so much I think I want to die."  
  
"No, Shuichi, no. I forbid it." Oh, way to sound forceful there, Ryuichi. This is good. I think you have his attention now. "And no more hurting yourself, either. Are you my friend?"  
  
Shuichi's eyes finally find my face. "Huh?"  
  
"Is Shindou Shuichi a friend to Sakuma Ryuichi?"  
  
"Well, yes..."  
  
"Do you want to see your friend get hurt?"  
  
"I don't..."  
  
"If you cut yourself, then I'm going to do it too. In fact, everything you do, I'm going to also do. So, unless you want to watch me drip blood all over my carpets, this will end. Yes, Shuichi?"  
  
"Y...yes...okay."   
  
I smile at him. He's a good person, Shindou Shuichi. And he has the biggest heart. I pick up a limp end of one of the longer bits of his hair and use it to tickle his nose. He emits a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.  
  
"That's a pretty cool noise, Shu-chan. Can you do that again later so I can record it?"  
  
"You'll have to speak to my manager about that." The corner of Shuichi's lips upturn a bit. In the very, very deepest depths of his eyes, I can see the smallest of sparkle.   
  
"Let's go out, Shuichi. I know this place where we can get the best ice cream. We'll eat so much that our brains will freeze off."  
  
"I don't think that's possible, Ryu-chan."  
  
He called me Ryu-chan. I'm so happy. I'm so happy we're friends.  
  
"I don't believe in impossible, Shuichi."  
  
Not when it comes to ice cream, anyway.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
In The Next Chapters: Ryuichi and Shuichi unleashed into the shopping district. Shuichi gets phone call from Yuki. Ryuichi remembers he has a television of sorts. And a lot of angst.  
  
Author Notes:  
  
I should note that the band names and place names are mostly made up. I have no idea of what bands might have been popular in Japan in the late 80's, early 90's, but if anyone wants to send me that information, it would be great. Also, names of posh shops in Tokyo would be useful for the next section.  
  
Tomi is, of course, an original character. I imagine him as a really soft-spoken, gentle, and caring sort of guy. In this story, Ryuichi picks up some of Tomi's speech patterns after a while. And, of course, Kumagoro, too.  
  
Review Notes:  
  
Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I'm glad you are enjoying the story so far. And I'm glad that no one has flamed the OOCness of some characters yet. Thanks again, and so much, for your kind words. (And Sou-roo, my plush bunny, thanks you, too.)  
  
So, double shiny pika pika thanks to: hidesfaerie, Zacarane, anon, forgottenfayth (Is this story sad? Oh no! I didn't mean it to be!), Elk (Thanks for adding me! Glad you are enjoying the story!), The Demonic Duo, pinksakuya, and Rath.  
  
Ranger: Please do check out my RK fics if you get bored. 'A Sakabatou For Baka Saitou' and 'Sundial' are probably my favorites. Both quite humorous, I hope.  
  
April-san: Someone forgot to tie me to the Kamiya dojo, and I wandered off. I should find my way back, eventually. :D I've been Kumagoro Beamed! *swoon* Now I can die happy. :D  
  
Anna Sartin: Addictive, eh? Well, I hope the addiction continues with this new chapter. :D   
  
Veleda: Sleep deprivation is -awful-. Make sure to get yoru ZZZs! I actually started on this story a few months ago, but could't figure out where to make it go...  
  
Kyaroru-chan: Ryuichi might break his promise. It is hard to say. As for Shuichi's phone conversations with Yuki, we'll learn more about that in the next chapter.  
  
Yma: I'm so glad you are enjoying the story! I think Ryuichi is pretty easy to characterize, especially in comparison to Yuki, though. Now, -he's- a tough one to crack. Yikes. ANyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, too. 


	3. Wasps In Disguise

"You had a way so familiar, but I could not recognize, cause you had blood on your face; I had blood in my eyes. But I could swear by your expression that the pain down in your soul was the same as the one down in mine." -Hedwig And The Angry Inch, The Origin of Love  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 3: Wasps In Disguise  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
We are in high style! Shu-chan and Ryu-chan and Ten, going zoom zoom zoom through the best parts of the city in my limo. All the buildings are made of shiny shiny plastic, of polished glass, of sleek chrome and solid black marble. Everything reflects us back at us, like a funhouse mirror show at high speed.   
  
And the citizens of Tokyo are gawking at us. 'Who could that -be-?' they wonder from behind briefcases and newspapers and business casual. A rich businessman? A politician? Who could be living that sort of lifestyle I dream about while I eat re-heated ramen at my desk?   
  
That would be me! Sakuma Ryuichi!  
  
And who is that stunningly amazing young man sitting next to you, Sakuma-san? Please tell us the name of that incredible creature oozing an air of whipped cream sex and tantalizing the world with silken tresses of pink and blue! What sort of alien lifeform has come to tempt Tokyo with sultry voice and hidden smile?   
  
Is it.. Could it be...Shindou Shuichi?   
  
Shuichi is definitely looking yummy yummy. He's wearing this short hot pink skirt with about a million buckles and zippers and straps over mesh tights. Over it, he's wearing this very plain white shirt with long tails. Oh, but the -best- are the white leather go-go boots which cling to his ankles and calves in a most deliciously scrumptious way.  
  
He's like vanilla ice cream with cherry syrup, covered in millions of metallic sprinkles.  
  
Kumagoro nudges me and tells me not to get too distracted. Shuichi doesn't belong to us, and we should definitely not be having those kinds of thoughts. He tells me to remember what happened last time we found such a pretty pretty butterfly and tried to catch it. It wasn't so pretty anymore with the wings pulled off, was it?  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"What the fuck is your problem, Ryuichi?"  
  
I'm not listening to him. I'm listening to my music, the music in my head, the music which needs to be put onto paper so I can sing it tomorrow. I can just see the paper on top of my piano from between shards of my hair which have fallen into my face. I -definitely- can't see Yukiro, who is clomping around my home office in those ridiculous club-kid shoes of his, yelling at the top of his lungs.  
  
"Talk to me, damn you! I'm tired of this shit!"  
  
There is no reason to be upset. I am the very picture of calm. I remove my pencil from between my lips and mutter, "Go away. I have work to do."  
  
If I don't look at him, I won't remember what he looks like, and maybe he will fade away. He'll fade away just like all the others, the ones I don't care enough to remember. Beautiful butterflies which landed on my hand, flexed their shimmering wings, invited me to love them... And I always do. I always fall for the same trick only to find they are wasps in disguise. They are always wasps in disguise.  
  
All of them, except for one.  
  
"Are you going to throw me away, too, Ryuichi? Is that it? You were the one who wanted -me-, remember? Not the other way around. You were the one who pursued -me-."  
  
Would he stop talking? I need silence. I need to be able to hear myself think. Why is he so loud, Kumagoro? Punch him in the mouth? No. I'm working. I have important work...  
  
"But, then, that's the way it is with you, isn't it, Ryuichi? Everything that catches your eye, you have to possess. You have to make people love you. But, once you have what you want, it isn't enough, is it? It's never enough for you."  
  
That's enough. That's gone far enough. I swivel around in my chair. My face is burning. Everything in my vision seems so crisp, as if the colors have doubled in intensity through the mere addition of this strange heat. Yukiro is leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed, his trademark pout of anger plastered on his face. I thought it was cute, once. Didn't I?  
  
I am the definition of the word 'steadiness'. My words pour from my mouth without a sliver of regret, crisp and cool as ice breaking away from a glacier. "I never loved you. You were merely a toy. And, now that I've done playing, you are not needed here anymore. You may leave."  
  
Yukiro's pout turns into a frown, and from there, into a resounding yell. It doesn't effect me. I do not care for this person. This person means no more to me than a random stranger on the street.   
  
"YOU...FUCKING...ASSHOLE..."  
  
Those sleek hands which are so adept at manipulating a saxophone pick up a completely different instrument from a pair of hooks the wall. Yukiro turns the baby blue bass guitar over and over in his hands, arching his eyebrow with wicked intent. He runs his fingers along the curvature teasingly, chuckling at the fact that I am now on my feet.  
  
No. Don't.  
  
"Oh, now I have your attention, don't I?" His fingers wrap around the neck with excruciating deliberation. "Tomi gave you this piece of shit bass, didn't he? Yeah. That could be the only reason why you'd hang such an inferior instrument in here."  
  
Not that one. Please don't...  
  
"But, Ryuichi..." Yukiro coos, "You know what? I'm not Tomi. And do you know how I know that, lover?"   
  
Oh god. Oh no.   
  
I watch as Yukiro slams the guitar against the wall, over, and over, and over. I watch as it breaks, shatters, goes from being a thing of beauty into scraps of wood, flakes of metal, hunks of fiberglass. Bits of guitar flutter into the air, and float their way to the ground. Just like butterflies. Lost little butterflies, too stunned to fly.  
  
"BECAUSE JUST LIKE THIS PIECE OF SHIT BASS, TOMI IS DEAD, YOU IGNORANT FUCK."  
  
I don't know what I've picked up, but I'm throwing it at Yukiro. Whatever I can get my hands on, I'm hurtling at his head. Things smash against the wall, several times just barely missing the target. "Get OUT! Get out of my house. You are nothing. You are nothing to me!"   
  
Before Yukiro leaves, he pushes over a case containing all sorts of toys and figurines. "Miserable and pathetic, that's what you are, Sakuma Ryuichi! Utterly miserable and astoundingly pathetic. Someday, just someday, the rest of the world will figure it out, too."   
  
When he's finally gone, I fall to my knees. My bass guitar. It's in...so many pieces. Broken. So broken. I... I need to fix it. I have to put it back together. I have to... I can fix it. I can fix you, Tomi. I can make you better, I promise this time. I...  
  
"Sakuma-san."  
  
It's not so many pieces, really. It just needs care. Care and love and time can fix anything, can't it? If I care enough...if I want it enough...  
  
"Sakuma-san, come on... You're bleeding."  
  
Someone is pulling on my arm. Trying to pull me away. But, I need to stay here. Here with Tomi. He gave this to me. He'd be so upset and...  
  
I'm being lifted, strong hands keep me from going back to the scene of wreckage. I'm being taken away. Through tears, I see a long black pony tail. Ten. Ten is trying to...  
  
"Leave me alone! I want to be with Tomi!" I try to kick, bite, scratch. Anything, anything. I want everyone else to hurt as much as I do. I can't take this anymore. I don't want to be alive, if this is what it means to be alive. I can die. I'm not afraid. Not if Tomi will be waiting there for me. "I want to be with Tomi."  
  
"I know you do," Ten grumbles, "I know you do."  
  
Right before I pass out from Ten's punch to my stomach, I hear him whisper...  
  
"But, you can't. Not anymore."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Shuuuuichi? Is it pika pika?" Kumagoro pops his head over the door of the dressing room to take a peek at the outfit Shuichi is trying. I'm jealous. I can't see that high, and Kumagoro won't tell me how it looks.  
  
"Yeah, I think I'm going to get it."  
  
"Yay!" I hop on one foot, almost spilling my champagne onto the floor. (Hehehe. I'm not supposed to have alcohol anymore. But, it's just champagne, and I like the bubbles.)   
  
We're hanging out in 'Monochrome', which is this great retro boutique I like. Well, I -really- like it because the staff knows my style really well, and they put aside some cool stuff for me. Which is good, because the actual shopping part of shopping is mostly boring. Well, when you are alone, anyway.   
  
All I am buying today are some belts and a new pair of cowboy boots (neon blue!). I think, after this, we'll go to a music store.   
  
This is fun.  
  
"Is everything alright, Sakuma-san? Is there anything we can get for you or Shindou-san?" Kiki, the store's owner, is always so helpful. She can get anything, really. She even special orders my hats from Texas.  
  
"Pizza? Shu-chan, you want pizza?"   
  
"Sure!"  
  
"Can we have a really big pizza with all the toppings? Please, please, Kiki-chan?"  
  
"Of course!" Kiki winks at me and hops off, "Anything for our favorite customer."  
  
I'm her favorite. She likes me best. Hooray!  
  
Shuichi finally comes out of the dressing room and shows me the outfit. The overcoat is a stunning concoction of black leather lined with faux pink fur, and underneath is a black mesh shirt over a purple PVC skirt. (I don't know why Shuichi likes skirts so much, but he looks gorgeous in them.) I fall sideways onto a nearby divan, clutching my heart, and sloshing champagne everywhere. I don't think I could have continued standing, even if I wanted. The sight utterly -melts- me. Except for the fact that I can see several large bruises through the mesh, Shuichi is -perfect-, so perfect.  
  
"You like it?" Shuichi spins around, causing the end of the overcoat to fly out and ripple like the frosting curlicues on a cake.   
  
"It's stunning, baby!" I say the last word in English, which causes Shuichi to smirk a bit at my impression of K. "Kumagoro agrees!"  
  
"Kumagoro should get a job as a style expert."  
  
"You think so, too?" I keep telling you, Kumagoro. You would be very successful. You could be a famous clothing designer bunny.  
  
"Ugh!" Shuichi says, arching his back to stretch. His little stomach is mouth-wateringly tempting, so I focus on Kumagoro's ears. Floppity floppity. Bunny ears. Not thinking of Shuichi's bellybutton. "All my joints hurt. And, I'm so hungry, too. I'm glad you thought of lunch."  
  
"Want some champagne? Er. I mean a soda, do you want a soda, na no da?" Probably not a good idea to put any liquor into Shuichi right now.   
  
"After I put my...I mean your...clothes back on, maybe."  
  
"Those are Shuichi's clothes now." I hop up off the divan, "I don't think Ryu-chan can walk in go-go boots, anyway."  
  
Shuichi smiles. He actually smiles. When he smiles, you know why he has so many fans. Some people say he looks innocent, but that isn't it. Shuichi's face, the reason people adore him, is because of his sincerity. It's almost impossible for him to hide how he really feels about anything. That sincerity makes him like a crystal stream of water, showcasing a thousand rounded pebbles of emotion beneath.  
  
His eyes never lie.  
  
"Your eyes never lie."  
  
Tomi's voice in my head makes me flinch. Thankfully, Shuichi is already back in the dressing room, trying to shimmy out of that naughty-thought provoking outfit. I take another sip of what remains of my champagne to stem the tide of a headache and look around our private lounge. All of the decor is in black and silver and swoops of decorative chrome. Thousands of tiny blue Christmas lights have been bundled into balls, creating stunning cerulean hanging lamps. Like ivies of light. I dig my bare toes into the plush grey carpet and listen to Shuichi's humming.  
  
Oh, it's a Nittle Grasper song. I wonder if Shuichi knows that he's always trying to do something musical. Humming. Tapping. Music is -in- him. I wonder if he hears it all the time, just like I do.  
  
"Well, crap," Shuichi murmurs.  
  
"Hmmmmmmm?"  
  
"Can't get this...zipper." I hear some part of Shuichi's body thud against the dressing room door. "It's stuck."  
  
"Should Ryu-chan help?" Shut up, Kumagoro. He's -stuck-. It isn't like -that-. I'm not doing anything -wrong-.   
  
"Yeah, I think..." Shuichi unlocks the door and opens it a few inches. "Come in."  
  
Kumagoro and I slip into Shuichi's dressing room. Thank goodness it's a pretty big one. He has clothes strewn all over the place, a rising sea of fabrics, from satin to dense leather, threatening to crash down on our naked toes in a giant wave of haute couture.  
  
"See? It's caught. And I can't pull the skirt down over my hips..." Shuichi shows me the offending zipper which is in...a place...I'd rather not be looking.   
  
No, Shuichi, please don't wiggle like that.  
  
"Oh-kay." I feel the blood draining from my head. Maybe I should not have had that champagne after all. "Kuma-chan and I will pull. You suck in. The monstrous zipper WILL be defeated! Garrrr!"  
  
Kumagoro and I both wave our claws in the air, ready for battle. We've defeated worse monsters before. We slayed the mighty beast known as 'Gum-stuck-in-hair'! We've conquered the villainous 'Wine-on-Gucci'! We've even captured the dangerous 'Little-Mousy-Under-The-Sink'!   
  
A zipper should be -no- problem, na no da.  
  
He holds up the mesh shirt while I grab the zipper, trying my hardest not to think about the fact that I am working towards a goal of undressing Shuichi. And, even though my knuckles do brush against bare stomach in the process, I'm doing pretty well.  
  
Shiver.  
  
"Gar! Vile metal-thingy! Down! Down, we say!" Is it superglued? What is the trick, here? How'd he get this on in the first...  
  
Right then, Shuichi's telephone rings.  
  
And all the blood that previously rushed out of my head comes back in a tidal wave.   
  
Everything becomes stillness, a jello cake coming to rest. I glance up at Shuichi, who is now reaching down towards the chair next to him to pick up the little pink Hello Kitty phone.   
  
I can see bruise on the left side of Shuichi's stomach. I can see the fire rapidly dying beneath Shuichi's gaze. I can see the phone. I can see the future.   
  
Pieces of broken guitar raining down around us like stunned butterflies.  
  
I suddenly want to slap the damn cell out of his hand.  
  
Time speeds back up, making that high pitched zrrrrrrrrrrppp sound that you hear when you switch to a higher RPM on a record player. Shuichi flips open the phone and holds it to his ear.  
  
"Shuichi." What's this? He's smiling again. "Oh, hey Hiro. What's up?"  
  
Oh. It's Hiroshi-kun. Argh. Maybe I shouldn't have had that champagne. I feel a bit dizzy now.  
  
"Hm? Oh, I'm fine." There's a pause, and Shuichi leans his head to the side. "Yeah. A vacation. Isn't that cool?"  
  
Zipper. Right. Get the zipper undone.  
  
"How are the wedding plans going?"  
  
I think this thing might be from another dimension, like those brain eating zombies in 'Night of The Zombies From Zeta Povira Six". Though, I don't think we can defeat it by sending Shuichi's crotch through an inter-dimensional portal.  
  
"That's good. How's Fujisaki? What? A girlfriend? Disneyland? When did -this- happen? That cheeky little...He's been hiding this for how long?"  
  
Well, hopefully brain eating zombies stick to brains, Kuma-chan. I don't think Shuichi really needs his bits gnawed off by an undead zipper, na no da.  
  
"Hm? Me? Uh, well, right now Sakuma-san is trying to get this skirt off of me."  
  
What the...  
  
At this point, three things happen in rapid succession.  
  
First, my sudden jerk at hearing Shuichi's explanation of my activities to his best friend causes the zipper to come undone.  
  
Second, I realize that Shuichi isn't wearing anything -under- the PVC skirt.  
  
This causes the third thing. I stumble backwards violently, tripping on some errant piece of clothing on the ground, and fall onto the dressing room door. This, not being locked in the first place, flies open, causing me to spill out into the lounge. Kumagoro and I tumble into a heap of OWIE, rolling and skidding until we bump into the small table by the divan.  
  
On top of everything, the last half of my champagne tumbles off the corner of the table and splashes into my face.  
  
"Ryu-chan, you okay?" Shuichi asks, peeking around the door of the dressing room.  
  
"Sakuma-san, the pizza is here!" Kiki-san declares as she bounces into the lounge followed by the bulky figure of my bodyguard.  
  
Ten, always too observant for MY own good takes one look at the empty glass laying by my head and says. "That had better not be champagne."  
  
What can I do?  
  
Just grin, I suppose.  
  
For once, I don't think I can blame Kumagoro.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
After shopping for clothes and music and manga and eating pizza and ice cream and parading around the city like the famous people we are supposed to be, Shuichi and I end up back at my penthouse.   
  
We're laying around the front room like sated lions. Our kills, bags upon bags of merchandise, smell of the meaty scent of leather and the pulpy odor of paper. The able rhino (Ten) and the hurried gazelle (Molly) are nowhere to be found.  
  
Kumagoro and I are reading this really great manga about space ninjas. But, we're having a bit of an argument because Kuma-chan reads faster than I do and keeps trying to turn the pages before I finish.   
  
Shuichi is, I fear, laying on the ground with his feet up on the couch, listening to an old Tsunami Puppets CD.   
  
I'm not such a big fan of theirs anymore.  
  
I should microwave all of their CDs.  
  
Which reminds me...I have a giant collection of CDs in the office and the office is...  
  
"Shuuuuuuuichi?"  
  
Shuichi pulls one side of his headphones out of his ear and turns his head to look at me. "You say somethin' Ryu-chan?"  
  
"I have rooms!"  
  
Shuichi's strawberry eyebrows wriggle in confusion.  
  
"I have rooms, na no da! You don't have to sleep on the couch!"  
  
Sometimes I forget that there is a whole other wing to my penthouse. I just don't often have too much use for it.  
  
"Uh, okay?" Shuichi slips his feet off the couch and turns himself upright. "Let's go see?"  
  
I'm glad that Shuichi can read my mind. I bounce up and open the door to the other half of the flat. Shuichi trails behind me, and I can hear the buzzing nasal singing of Tsunami Puppets coming from the flopping earpiece.   
  
"Okay," I say, opening the first door. "This is the office, na no da. And...um...what's in this room here? Oh yeah, storage. Hm, I think I was supposed to sign those CDs a long time ago. Nevermind." I walk to the next set of doors and open them with flare. "And this is where my TV lives."  
  
Shuichi leans over my shoulder and looks into the dim room as I search for the lights. "Um." He laughs nervously for some reason. "Ryuichi...that's a theater."  
  
"Guess so." It is sort-of a theater. I didn't put it in there, though. The penthouse just came like that. The seats are really comfy nonetheless, big smushy recliners with special holders to put your drinks. I think there's a popcorn machine....somewhere. But, I don't know how to make it work, anyway, so it isn't important.   
  
"I think this room here is..." I open another door off the hallway. "Oh, right. It was supposed to be a library but, I don't have enough books so I put...um..."  
  
I put Tomi's pinball machines and old arcade games in there. We collected them for a while. That was good when Tomi had to stay home. We could go to the arcade without leaving and...  
  
Although Shuichi is gawking at the old games, I nudge him back out of the room and close the door gently. I knew there were reasons I didn't use this part of my house very often. I guess I just forgot. When you're so busy all the time, it's easy to forget.  
  
That's the whole -point- of making yourself busy, really.  
  
"Here they are Shu-chan," I say, arriving at the end of the hall. "You can use this bedroom or this one. This one has a good view of the sunrise from the balcony, but the other one is bigger."  
  
Shuichi walks into the one with the balcony. Just now, the sun is setting over Tokyo, creating shiny orange sparkles that dance against millions of windows and rooftops. Bits of neon and twinkles of halogen lights lay on the floor of our dominion, wasted confetti for some past celebration. In just a few minutes, the sunlight will give way, and the sparkles will disappear. Just like a birthday cake. Make a wish, and blow out the candles, Shuichi.  
  
I will wish, too. I will wish for confusion to end. I wish for love to be as it is supposed to be. Joyous and everlasting.  
  
I will wish for you...and Yuki-san...  
  
I will wish that somehow, you'll wake up tomorrow, and it never happened.  
  
It never happened, and it will never happen. And Yuki-san loves you, and you love him. Forever. That's the way it should be.  
  
"Ryuichi?" Those blue eyes tinted with just a hint of purple are locked on mine. I bite my lip. Stupid tear. "You okay?"  
  
Why does everyone end up taking care of me?  
  
Kumagoro tells Shuichi that I just had a sad thought. A very sad thought.   
  
I don't want to look at Shuichi's face, because he might be able to see in my eyes all the things I want so desperately.   
  
I want to be loved, but more than that, I want Shuichi to love and be loved.   
  
"Hey," Shuichi says, touching my chin, "Don't be sad. This was a really good day, Ryuichi. Best day I've had in a long time. And it's all because of you."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah." Shuichi leans forward, his bone thin arms wrapping around my neck in a tight hug. It's nice, being hugged like this. I'd forgotten how safe and calming it feels. I use Kuma-chan's ear to wipe away my tear. "So, lets... I mean, if you'll help me put all the stuff I bought in here, maybe we could watch a movie in that big TV room of yours."  
  
"Can we watch Night of the Zombies from Zeta Povira Six?"  
  
I feel Shuichi airy laughter hit my neck. "Is it any good? I haven't seen it."  
  
"No," I reply, pulling myself away from his embrace. I shouldn't stay there. That harbor is not for me. "I think it's horrible, na no da."  
  
"Then why do you want to watch it?"  
  
I shrug. But, what I really mean to say is...  
  
"Zombies are drawn to brains like I am drawn to you, Shuichi. We just can't help it."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
We're watching the aforementioned movie. Somehow, Shuichi figured out how to make the popcorn machine work. Apparently, from what he tells me, he's very good in the kitchen, and used to cook for Yuki all the time. So, he knows all about how to make food.  
  
I'm not allowed to use the stove...anymore.  
  
(Ten found me sitting at my keyboard, tapping out some tune, while noxious smoke filled the entire apartment. I swear I didn't notice. I don't even remember putting that instant pizza in the oven. He said I was just like Nero, fiddling while Rome burns. I thought it was a mean thing to say to me just because I might be a -smidgen- forgetful.)  
  
Kumagoro and I are engrossed in the movie, which we know by heart. Kuma-chan acts out the action scenes to my delight, even though it does occasionally upset the bowl of popcorn in my lap. Shuichi is tucked into one of the tan recliners, alternately watching the movie and doodling on his sketchpad.  
  
He looks...distracted. More and more distracted by the minute, actually.  
  
He keeps opening up his Hello Kitty phone and looking at it. I guess to figure out the time.  
  
I briefly wonder what time Yuki-san usually calls. But, I don't have to wonder for long.   
  
When the cell finally chirps its ringtone, Shuichi's shoulders go rigid. He picks it up, flips it open, and holds it to his ear.   
  
Kumagoro suggests that the movie is a bit too loud, so we find the control and put it on pause.  
  
"Yeah, it's me."  
  
As Shuichi stares into indeterminate space in a perfect reflection of the zombies captured mid-movement on the screen, Kumagoro and I climb out of the our recliner and pretend to be very interested in getting more popcorn from the machine at the back of the room.  
  
"Yuki..." The name itself echoes with a thousand different emotions. Pleading. Annoyance. Craving. Pain. Sorrow. Love. How can he fit so many things into just two syllables? "Yes. I'm fine."  
  
Kuma-chan and I slink behind the last recliner in the room, squatting down to inspect the floor. We should probably let Shuichi have his privacy, but...if he needs me, I want to be here.  
  
"I said I was fine." A small sigh, one so filled with longing it makes me twitch, floats through the air. "Yeah. Sakuma Ryuichi's house. Yeah. No. We went shopping. Watching a movie. Uh-huh."  
  
Shuichi's brief answers have me perplexed. Obviously, Yuki-san is on the other end of the phone, asking him question after question. But, if Yuki-san had such disregard for Shuichi, why would he call? And, even if he did call...just out of some sort of sense of duty...why would he be so concerned about Shuichi's welfare? Unless he felt guilty, maybe. But, Yuki-san doesn't seem to be the guilty type.  
  
Very perplexing, don't you think, Kumagoro?   
  
"Yuki, what do you want from me?"  
  
This time the tone is different, darker. The sadness that oozed from Shuichi when I found him in his hotel room returns, creeping around the edges of his voice.   
  
"Do you love me, Yuki?"  
  
I hear the answer. Even though I am across the room. In the stillness, with Shuichi, Kumagoro, and I all holding our breath, you could hear a an ice cube melt. One single buzz comes from the phone. One word of affirmation, said low and tender, lifting all three of us on a wave and dashing us upon the rocks. "Yes."  
  
"Then, why? Why, Yuki?" Yes, why? Why would you do such a horrible thing to Shuichi? If you love someone...  
  
Seconds pass, and there is no subsequent noise coming from Shuichi's cell. Kumagoro and I peek over the top of the recliner, staring across the room to where I can only see Shuichi's hand hanging over the side of his chair. Limp. Limp like a corpse.  
  
Like the zombies ate his brain.  
  
"Why won't you answer me? Answer me, Yuki!"  
  
Apparently, there are no more words to come from the cold-hearted writer. Shuichi mumbles, "Whatever. Goodbye."   
  
As Shuichi snaps his phone closed, I tip-toe up the aisle. I find Shuichi half-swallowed by the monstrous chair, staring at Hello Kitty's mouthless, ever-expressionless, face.  
  
"She's got it good," Shuichi whispers, "No mouth. Can't smile. Can't frown. Must be nice."  
  
I kneel in front of Shuichi and gently take the phone from his hand, quietly replacing it with Kumagoro. Slick trails of tears pour from Shuichi's eyes and leap from his chin onto the top of Kuma-chan's head. I want to wrap my arms around him. I want to pull him close and tell him it will be okay now. But, that would be a lie, and I don't want to lie to Shuichi.   
  
So, instead, I say, "Shu-chan, you okay?" Which, of course, he is not. But, there is nothing, really, you can say in these situations, as far as I know. Not unless you are -much- smarter than I am.  
  
Eyes flicker from Kumagoro to me. "He says he loves me, but..."  
  
"Maybe he doesn't know why. Maybe, he was scared of your closeness and he took it out on you, Shuichi. And maybe he just doesn't know how to say he is sorry. But, if he loves you...and you love him...surely it can be worked out, right?"  
  
Shuichi's hands rapidly clench into fists so tight that I'm worried for poor Kuma-chan's health. Suddenly, Shuichi bolts up, standing so quickly I'm knocked onto my rump. "I want to see him, Ryuichi."  
  
Blink.  
  
Blink blink.  
  
"Um. Now?"  
  
Shuichi nods. "Will you come with? Be my moral support?" He grabs my hands and squeezes them. His voice, soft and mournful, dribbles from his lips to my ears. "Please, I really could use your help. If I just understood...if I could just see it in his face that he is truly sorry... Please, Ryuichi?"  
  
Gar. How ungood.  
  
I try to say no. I make my lips form the word, force them to disagree, but...in the end, I can't. Not with the sweetness of that 'please'.   
  
He said he could really use my help.  
  
Sigh.  
  
Tohma is going to kill me.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
  
One Hour Later:  
  
I am going to kill Tohma.  
  
Sharp hooks prying apart the lobes of my brain. Burning sensation at my fingertips. Yes. Fire. I see nothing but a world of fire.  
  
I seem to have a tire iron in my hands.  
  
Shuichi...crying. Shuichi...in a ball at the bottom of the stairs. Shuichi can do little more than take in quavering breaths. He's stunned. Nigh-catatonic with horror, he pulls on his hair while rocking back and forth.  
  
Cruelty. Utter cruelty.  
  
How could I not know?  
  
The tire iron swings of it's own accord, smashing into Tohma's BMW. Glass shoots everywhere, raining down like glitter in a sadistic parade. It flies into my arms. Into my face, perhaps. I don't care if I am bleeding. I don't care how much I hurt, because I still hear Shuichi's pained sobs.  
  
The headlights. The hood. The roof. I wish it were Tohma's body. I wish it were Yuki Eiri's. The clattering sound of metal on metal echos through the sleeping neighborhood, causing a half-dozen lights to flip on and provoking a several dogs to bark.   
  
If I knew which car belonged to Yuki Eiri...  
  
"You can't understand this, Ryuichi." That's what he said.  
  
Like hell I can't.  
  
"It's complicated." He said that, too.  
  
I'm not -that- stupid.  
  
"I told you not to come here. You shouldn't have come here."  
  
No, Tohma. -You- shouldn't have come here.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
***In Our Next Chapter: We go back in time to find out what, exactly, set Ryuichi off. Shuichi ends up even more broken than before and might even try to end it all. Another confrontation causes accusations to fly. And Tomi's last words to Ryuichi are revealed... I hope you'll stay tuned to the glorious angst-fest which is this story!  
  
***Author Notes:  
  
I don't have any notes for this chapter, but if you have any questions, do let me know. Not a lot important happens in this chapter, except at the end. Just a smidgen more character development, I suppose.  
  
I will only give you one hint. It is, indeed, complicated...just like Tohma says.  
  
***Review Notes:  
  
Thank you very much for your nice reviews. They make me so happy. They are like little happy bon-bons which make writing all the sweeter. Oh good lord, I'm thinking in candy metaphors like Ryuichi now. Yikes.  
  
So, extra special strawberry-flavored-pocky thanks to: Bloaty Kitsune, anon, Burned Vamp, Aibyouka, pinksakuya, and Lasaire  
  
Yma: Thanks for your extensive review. :D :D Yeah, I wasn't too keen on the speed of the "relationship development", but since the story focuses on Shuichi and Ryuichi, I didn't want to spend -too- much time on it. Blar. Maybe I will tweak it a bit in edit.   
  
Ranger: Maybe angst/romance, you think? Categories are so hard. I don't really know if this counts as "drama" or not. I guess it does. Hrm.  
  
hidesfaerie: Thanks for the pocky and plushes. Teehee.   
  
Catastrophe: Glad you are enjoying the story!  
  
riversprite77: Happy ending? Maybe...maybe a bit of happy -and- sad?  
  
xpyne: Good questions, all. I hope some of them will be answered in the next chapter. :D  
  
natsu-chan: Yeah, but who would Shuichi -not- be cute with? Chuckle. Such a cutie, that one.  
  
Wakaba-sama: Soul hurt? Oh geez, I hope not. There's a bit of humor in this chapter, so maybe it isn't as bad?  
  
Veleda: Sleep is calling me, too. I think these are the shortest review answers I've written in a long time. 


	4. The Brightest Star

"And you're shining like the brightest star, a transmission from the midnight radio." --Hedwig and the angry Inch  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter Four: The Brightest Star  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Shuichi and I decide to take a taxi, due to the fact that there is absolutely no way that Ten will drive us to Yuki Eiri's place.  
  
We ride through the city, streets still bustling with nightlife. Inside the taxi, we can't hear the voices of the people, the sounds of both revelry and work in a city that refuses to sleep. All we can hear is the blast of cold coming from the air conditioner and the intermittent squawk of the driver's two-way radio.  
  
"You sure about this, Shu-chan?"  
  
Shuichi's temple is against the window as he gazes at the road ahead. "Not really, no. But, I think it needs to be done."  
  
Kumagoro is clinging to my hand. He's as worried as I am. We made a promise to Tohma. But, this isn't really a -confrontation-, is it? This is just a -conversation-. Two completely different things. Right, Kumagoro?  
  
Right.  
  
In a way, however, I think Shuichi is correct. This needs to be done. Yuki Eiri loves him, and this must have been some sort of massive misunderstanding. They are always fighting, those two, and maybe, just this once, things got out of hand on Yuki-san's end.   
  
Just because you fight...it doesn't mean the love is gone. Some of the healthiest relationships I've ever seen require both parties to let off steam whenever possible.   
  
Even Tomi and I fought a few times. It was hard to fight with Tomi, though. When he was upset, he would just act happier and happier until that plastic smile never left his face. Then, finally, he'd break down like the last block pulled from a Jenga puzzle causing it to collapse. You never knew what it would be that would set him off. Once, everything seemed normal and fine while we were shopping, and the next thing I knew, Tomi was sobbing pitifully over a torn bag of macaroni noodles. Another time we were sitting in a cheerful outdoor cafe, and then in a snap, Tomi was blubbering about the fact that our table didn't have any sugar packets.   
  
Anyway, fighting doesn't necessarily imply hate. Often, it seems to be more about needs not being met or various forms of miscommunication.  
  
I try to glance at Shuichi without being obvious. His dull green windbreaker and faded baseball cap do nothing to hide his identity. Nothing can hide Shuichi, I fear. Dress him up however you like, cover him in leaves and tar, and he's still a shining meteorite on a collision course with destiny.   
  
Every few seconds, his lips move, almost imperceptibly. I can see that he's practicing, trying out conversations with Yuki-san in his head.   
  
"Just say what you feel, Shuichi," I sound so certain, so in charge of the situation. Shuichi's head turns and he's looking at me now as if I've said something remarkable. And even though we're whipping through the city in a taxi, I feel oddly still. It is a stillness I attempt to impart to Shuichi. "It will come to you when you see him. That which is heartfelt, when shared between two in love, can not help but be a balm to all wounds."  
  
Shuichi's eyebrows lift, as if surprised. His glossy lips part ever so minutely. He stutters out a syllable that sounds a lot like "Oh", but before he can say any more, Kumagoro jumps up on top of Shuichi's head.  
  
"Kuma-chan thinks so too, na no da!"  
  
Yuki Eiri lives in a very fine flat in a quiet part of town. I've been there several times to see Shuichi. But, I try not to go there -too- much, because Tohma says Yuki-san needs his quiet for writing. I tried to read one of Yuki-san's books once, because I wanted to know more about the person that my friend Shuichi loves. It didn't have any pictures and used a lot of flowery language, so I really didn't get very far. It was about this mute girl who was in love with a singer, I think. One day she got her voice back, but she continued to pretend to be mute. She thought that if he heard her voice, he'd realize how plain it was compared to his own.  
  
Or something like that. Very tragic.   
  
Anyway, when we arrived, I gave Shuichi the biggest smile I could muster. It was sincere, too. Because I had a great hope that this meeting would mend the relationship of two people who were very much in love.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I remember Uesugi Eiri.   
  
Sort of.  
  
Tohma always had a lot of friends, as I've mentioned. But, somehow, Uesugi Eiri and his sister Mika received more attention than most.   
  
It was the same horridly hot summer that I met Tomi when Tohma's entire family went to visit relatives in New York. The American Seguchis were acquainted with the American Uesugis, I suppose. And, from there, Tohma met Eiri and Mika.  
  
When he returned to Japan, our friendship picked up exactly where it left off. It didn't seem to matter to Tohma that I was dating Tomi, nor did it really matter to me that Tohma was dating Mika-san. When we were together, playing in his basement, that sort of stuff took backseat to the music.  
  
Nonetheless, it never seemed to me that Tohma was made any more or less happy by his relationship with Mika-san. Not unhappy...but...  
  
When Tomi walked into a room, I couldn't help but smile this ridiculously huge goofy grin.  
  
When Mika walked into a room, Tohma just smirked. Then again, Tohma has his own ways of doing things, of expressing himself. He's brilliant, you see. Tohma has always been two steps ahead of everyone else, and three steps ahead of me. He's a great keyboardist, but he's extraordinary at making deals and manipulating an image. With any other person, Nittle Grasper would have been just another great, but struggling, band.  
  
Anyway, Tohma seemed to be pursuing Mika-san quite vigorously. Don't get me wrong, he was a perfect gentleman, as always. (Alright, he isn't -always- a perfect gentleman. You should see what he did to this one club owner who stiffed us our pay. Geez. Seguchi Tohma has a -killer- backhand. Never play him at tennis or racquetball. Seriously.)   
  
The first time I saw Uesugi Eiri, he was sitting on the porch in front of Mika-san's house, scribbling in a -blue- notebook, looking dark and mysterious.  
  
The second time I saw Uesugi Eiri, he was sitting on the porch in front of Mika-san's house, scribbling in a -green- notebook, looking dark and mysterious.   
  
The third time...  
  
Well, you get the idea. All I really knew about him was that he went through a lot of notebooks.  
  
I can't say I ever did get to know him very well. But, Tohma seemed to like him well enough. He'd invite Eiri-chan along with us when we all went on double-dates, which was rare, but did happen on occasion.   
  
Yes. Tohma really liked Uesugi Eiri. I always suspected it was because they had so much in common. Blonde hair, half-American heritages, brains than never stopped trying to break down the world. Chop it into blocks they could use to rebuild it in their own images.   
  
Eiri did it with writing. Tohma constructed NG.   
  
Well, after Eiri started writing full time, I didn't see him around much anymore. I can't say I missed him much.   
  
People who don't ever laugh give me the willies.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"You ready, Shu-chan?"  
  
Shuichi and I climbed out of the car. The night air had turned colder somewhere between my house and Yuki-san's. I paid the cab fare and we headed for the door.   
  
Shuichi stumbled a bit on some gravel, and I steadied him with my hand on his shoulder. I felt very big brotherly, right then, taking my friend to be reconciled with his lover, helping him to find his happiness once again, making sure he didn't fall down. Except, well, I was attracted to the guy towards which I was being brotherly, so I suppose that isn't actually a good way to look at it.  
  
Shuichi and I climbed the stairs to Yuki-san's apartment. The lights in the stairwell and in the hallway caused our shadows to dance clockwise around our feet as we passed, circling us like apparitions of vultures in the desert. Shuichi sighed once, twice, shivered a bit underneath his light windbreaker, but never hesitated in his step. By the time he was fishing for his keys in his pocket, his eyes were shining more brightly than I could ever remember even seeing on stage.  
  
I could almost hear his thoughts. "I'm going to make this work. I'm going to show him that nothing he has done will make me love him less, that he can't drive me away so easily."  
  
It was quiet there, in that hallway, but we could hear the sound of the television from just beyond Yuki-san's door. I recognized the announcer's voice, and immediately knew the program. "Pop Week", which is half a video show and half a news show about music. Kuma-chan and I watch it whenever we can to see if anyone we know is on TV.  
  
Shuichi puts down the bag he was carrying and unlocks the door. He bends back down to pick up the bag as I turn the knob and push.  
  
The blue glow of the TV hits my face as the door swings open. The sound of Pop Week. The acrid smell of lemon cleaner. And, the sight that grabs my heart and tears it from my chest.  
  
Yuki Eiri, on the couch, draped over Seguchi Tohma's lap.  
  
Yuki-san's head rests on Tohma's legs. Yuki-san's torso, shirtless and sweaty, lays against a backdrop of Tohma's lithe and naked chest. Tohma, smiling so serenely, hands entwined in the blonde hair, strokes it with what seems to be utter glee. Yuki-san's eyes are closed in blissful rest. A blanket pulled up to Yuki-san's waist affords him some decency, but Tohma is in nothing but his boxer shorts.  
  
Tohma.  
  
And Yuki-san.  
  
Tohma. My Tohma. My best friend. The one person I trusted to never...to always be...  
  
I am so stunned, I momentarily forget about Shuichi. By the time I return to my senses, Shuichi has already retrieved his bag and made his way around the door.   
  
It is too late. He sees...what I see.  
  
"Don't look, Shuichi!" Because every second you look will be another nail into your heart. Don't look. This isn't it. This is a dream. This isn't happening to you. You are asleep at my penthouse and in a moment we're going to wake up and drink sodas. Don't look. "Don't look!"  
  
"Yuki?" Shuichi teeters forward as his bag drops from his hands. His voice is just like a child's, just like a little kid who has suddenly realized for the first time that adults lie. "Yuki?"  
  
Yuki Eiri opens his eyes, piercing amber eyes which remind me of some deadly savage beast. After some searching, his gaze locks on Shuichi. Deep and weary, Yuki-san's voice asks, "Brat?"  
  
"Yuki...why? Yuki, why would you...?" I feel Shuichi falling. He crumples as easily as a folding fan, landing on his knees. Kumagoro mimics the motion, and lands face-down next to Shuichi's feet.  
  
I guess he didn't want to look, either.  
  
Yuki-san pushes himself up on one arm, slowly, exhaustedly. He looks from Shuichi, to me, to Tohma and back to Shuichi. "Brat, this isn't..."  
  
"This isn't any of your business," Tohma says, completing the thought. The whole time, the entire time, his gaze had remained fixed on mine. He can't...no...he won't look at Shuichi. "He never loved you, Shindou-san. You were just a passing interest. A toy. And you've grown worn out and boring. You aren't needed here anymore. So leave."  
  
His voice. Just like honey. As sweet and sticky-slick as honey.  
  
Tohma's voice. My words. My insensitive words to Yukiro making Shuichi gasp for air. My words tearing sobs from Shuichi's throat.  
  
"Isn't that right, Eiri? Shuichi should leave?"  
  
"Yeah, Brat," Yuki-san echoes rather dejectedly, falling back onto Tohma's lap. "You should leave."  
  
Tohma smiling sweetly and triumphantly.  
  
Yuki-san's lips snapping closed, his gaze turning liquidly towards the television.   
  
Shuichi shaking. Shuichi...trying to cry out, to say something. Anything. But, no sound comes out. His pink and blue hair thrown back, his mouth wide. Bony hands come up to cover his face as he gives up and slumps over, sobbing.  
  
Shuichi hurting.   
  
I step in front of him. I don't want him to look anymore. Shuichi's head rests against the back of my calves.  
  
Furious. So...furious... Furious that Tohma would do this. Incomprehensible anger that he would use my words to hurt Shuichi. White hot rage at Yuki Eiri's lies.  
  
"This is twisted, Tohma. You're sick. You're both sick and disturbed."   
  
Tohma sighs deeply and leans back against the couch, languidly stretching his arms out over the tops of cushions. "You would know about twisted, sick, and disturbed, wouldn't you, Ryuichi?"  
  
"I never..." I feel my teeth grinding.  
  
"Never broke anyone's heart? I beg to differ. I'd name them all, but we'd be here all night, wouldn't we? After Tomi, you just couldn't..."  
  
"You shut up! Don't you -dare- say Tomi's name. Don't you DARE let his name cross your lips..."  
  
Something in Tohma's eyes frightens me. He looks down at Yuki-san for a long time before responding. "Your broken little mind, Ryuichi... Your poor broken mind. Tell me, do you still call for him in your sleep? Do you still hide his things away from the world, protecting them in the hopes that you can save something...something of your love? You do, don't you? You mourn every single day. You mourn so completely that the pain consumes you..."  
  
"FUCK YOU!" Now, I'm shaking. I'm shaking so badly that I have to hold on to the door frame to remain standing.  
  
"You can't understand this, Ryuichi." Tohma's voice is so quiet now, almost tender. "It's complicated."  
  
"It's not complicated. You're sleeping with your wife's brother!"  
  
Resignedly, Tohma reaches over and pulls the blanket on Yuki-san's legs, covering the other man's torso. "I told you not to come here, Ryuichi. You shouldn't have come here. So, please, just take Shuichi and go."  
  
"Aren't you going to say anything to him, Yuki-san? Apologize to him! Say something, you bastard!"  
  
Yuki Eiri's eyes never leave the television. His voice, hollow and drained, replies after what seems like forever. "No. Just go."  
  
And then I'm lifting Shuichi off the ground. I'm pulling him away, dragging him through the hallway, cursing the names of Seguchi Tohma and Yuki Eiri at the top of my lungs. Shuichi can barely see with his hair plastered to his face from tears, and the constant gasps of air to fuel his heavy sobs cause him to wobble worse than a drunk man.   
  
Somehow, we end up on the street. Shuichi collapses on the curb.  
  
And, I spot Tohma's car.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I can't really remember anything between the time I began to smash Tohma's car, and the time I heard police sirens.  
  
Hearing them, however, shook me from my enraged stupor enough to drop the tire iron and stumble backwards.   
  
It didn't look like much of a car anymore.  
  
I fall against the steps, bumping into Shuichi in the process. He cries out softly, a pitiful little wail caused not so much by physical pain as from being knocked from his blank stupor and rhythmic sobbing.   
  
"Shuichi, we have to go. The police..."  
  
He doesn't move. I don't think he even sees me standing here.  
  
Probably the most reasonable thing I've done all evening is to pull Shuichi up, drape his arms over my shoulders, and lift him onto my back. I'm not exactly the strongest or biggest guy in the world, but somehow I find just enough strength to carry Shuichi down the road.   
  
I look back, just once, over my left shoulder (since Shuichi's head was resting on my right), and you know...  
  
I swear I see Yuki Eiri looking through the curtains at us. Just for a second. I swear I do.   
  
But...I...  
  
Everything is so confusing at the moment. My head pounds, my vision swims. Shuichi's body against my back, heavy and shivering, causes only more disorientation within my soul. His panting breath against my ear as he slips from agony to numbness somehow conjures visions of Tomi.  
  
Tomi and I in bed together, in blissful exaltation of our love. Moaning, panting, trying to become one again.  
  
Tomi in his hospital bed...panting...in so much pain...so much pain...  
  
I'm holding his hand. I'm singing softly, singing his favorite songs, but..  
  
Nothing I could do would ever take the pain away. And for Shuichi...  
  
I've failed Shuichi, too.  
  
I duck into some alleyway, wandering aimlessly away from the scene of the crime I've just committed. I'm not overly worried about it. What's Tohma going to do? Press charges? Try to put his own band member and biggest money maker in jail? It would be like stealing from himself. And I know now that Tohma only steals from others.  
  
"You're bleeding...Ryuichi," Shuichi manages between choked breaths.  
  
"Huh?" Oh. Right. I forgot about that. When I smashed the windshields, I think some of the glass flew out and cut me. "Yeah, it's okay."  
  
I can't feel it, anyway.  
  
"Do you have your phone, Shuichi?"  
  
"I think...in my...pocket..."  
  
We emerge on some random suburban street, well lit by the golden glow of street lights. Nicely trimmed yards and spotless driveways sporting luxury cars line the block. Unable to walk any further carrying Shuichi on my back, I sit down on the curb near a pair of tin trash cans.   
  
Shuichi remains leaning against my back, his face pressed into the apex of my spine. Somehow, I manage to get his phone from his pocket and dial.  
  
It rings only once, and is picked up.  
  
Molly's worried voice hits my ear. "Sakuma-san? Please say that is you..."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Where are you? Everyone is looking for you and Shindou-san! K just called and said that Seguchi-san..."  
  
"Molly...get Ten...the car...please, quickly..." Very quickly. I'm feeling very dizzy. I don't know how much longer I can hold together. If you even call this holding together, which I am not sure that you can.  
  
"Alright. Alright. We'll be right there."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Shuichi?"  
  
My friend answered by pressing his face more firmly into my back. His legs remained curled around my waist, his hands balled into fists resting on my shoulder blades. I reached down and touched his knee, his left knee, just to make sure he was real, that I had really brought him here. When I removed my hand, a half-palm print of sticky blood remained.  
  
Around me, the landscape warped and wobbled, like looking up a street through searing hot steam on a summer day. Nothing would remain stationary. My mind felt similar. Within my head, a thousand visions flashed, a post-holiday slideshow of the more horrific sections of my existence. Who was I? Who was I really?   
  
Before I met Tomi, I was just floating. I was a plain egg in boiling water, waiting for the timer. Who am I now? Am I cruel? Am I really so cruel? Do I make them love me and then toss it aside for brighter and newer obsessions?   
  
(Scrambled egg. I must be a scrambled egg.)  
  
Is it because of me...because Shuichi wanted to be like me...that he's being hurt?   
  
I just don't want you to see me, Tomi. I don't want you to see how I turned out. What an awful mess I've made of things without you. So, sometimes, I pretend to be someone else altogether. Someone you might like.  
  
Still. Even now...  
  
Every time...  
  
Every time I sing, I look for your face in the crowd.  
  
The sky is beautiful. Look at all the stars tonight. We could count them, if you wanted. We can spend all night counting them, and thinking of nothing but the sky and our insignificance as compared to the expanse of the Universe. And you can tell me all the stories you made up about the constellations.   
  
Look, Tomi, the sky is moving! It's dancing! It's dancing just for us. I bet I can...  
  
"R...Ryuichi?"  
  
I bet I can reach up and grab...that one. That bright one there. The shiniest star in the entire sky. Just for you.  
  
"Ryuichi? Are you alright?"  
  
Hm? When did you do your hair like that, Tomi? It suits you, though. The pink really sets off your eyes. Makes them all glittery, na no da. Aw, don't look so frightened. I don't know where we are right now, but certainly it can't be that bad. 'Cause we're here together...right?  
  
"Ryuichi! Stay awake! Stay awake! Please!"  
  
Is this a game, Tomi? Must be a new one. I don't remember...I can't remember...  
  
Oh, Tomi? Have you seen Kumagoro lately?  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"You lost a lot of blood, I guess. Running speeds up the heart rate. That's why you're supposed to remain still, Sakuma-san."  
  
Who is this woman, and why is she talking to me?  
  
"Twelve stitches in your left arm. That's a new record for you."  
  
She's got blonde hair up in a bun and she's putting away stuff into a black bag. She's dressed pretty plainly, so... I don't think she's in a band. Maybe she's one of Tohma's friends. They're always talking to me like they I know who they are. Tohma's friends are usually so...  
  
Tohma's friends.  
  
Tohma.  
  
I jolt upwards, causing the woman poking at my arm to stumble backwards. Her calves hit the coffee table, and she ends up spilling a neat pile of 'Music Splash!' magazines as her rump hits the thick (and thankfully sturdy) glass.  
  
This is my penthouse. How did we get here? And...  
  
"WHO IS THIS PERSON?"   
  
"Sakuma-san," Molly says quietly from the couch opposite mine, "This is Ijima-sensei, remember? Your doctor?"  
  
Before I can lunge at the shocked doctor's neck, Ten is somehow behind me, his arms locked under mine, restraining my movement.  
  
"I. Hate. Doctors." I try to wiggle away from Ten, but he pushes upwards, threatening to dislocate my shoulders if I move.   
  
He's my bodyguard, but sometimes I wonder if he spends more time guarding other bodies from me.  
  
"I hate doctors. I hate everything about the medical profession. You're useless! Useless! Get the fuck out of my house!"  
  
Wait. Did she...did she do something to Shuichi? Where's... Where is he? Did something happen to Shuichi? I can't remember. Why can't I remember anything after that phone call to Molly?  
  
I relax a bit as the doctor grabs her bag and is ushered towards the door by Molly. Nonetheless, Ten doesn't release his hold until the door is closed and the doctor out of view.  
  
"Where's...Shuichi? Is he hurt? Is he..."  
  
Ten guides me back onto the couch as Molly takes her seat across from me. Her usually-smiling mouth draws into a tight line as she leans her the side of forehead on two outstretched fingers.  
  
"Shindou-san is fine. The doctor gave him something to help him sleep. I think that is best for him now, Sakuma-san. You both need to calm down and get some rest. Seguchi-san called K, and K called me and told us everything. Seguchi-san's car... Sakuma-san, what were you -doing-? Across town without your bodyguard, without even telling anyone? No, nevermind, I don't want to know. But, Seguichi-san is advising Yuki-san to take out a restraining order against you and Shindou-san..."  
  
I tune her out. It doesn't matter, at any rate. I can't see how anything matters. Tohma lied. Yuki Eiri lied. Shuichi is broken. I'm broken. And Tomi's dead. Everything shiny in this world has grown tarnished. Why sing? Why do...anything?  
  
"Take these, Sakuma-san. You need sleep." Molly's hand is outstretched. Little blue sleeping pills. Does she really want to make sure I sleep? Or does she just want to make sure I'm not awake to damage myself or my surroundings?  
  
That's what they wanted in the hospital. I wouldn't take the pills, though. I didn't want to sleep, because I didn't want to wake up to find Tomi wasn't at my side. So, they used needles.   
  
And restraints.  
  
I take the pills from Molly's hand and pop them in my mouth, swallowing. Like a hawk, she never takes her eyes from me.  
  
"Show me your hands."  
  
I show her that I haven't palmed the offending pills.  
  
"Show me your mouth."  
  
This too, I have to show. Just like a child. Like I can't be trusted in my own home. And, I suppose, I actually can't be trusted.  
  
"Alright. We're going now. You go straight to bed, okay?"   
  
I nod, and turn my head to look at Ten. He'd glaring at me like I'm some sort of wayward demon spawn.  
  
Ten and Molly. Their contracts state that, should I become a danger to myself or others, they have the authority to remand me back into psychiatric care.   
  
For my own good.  
  
Tohma wrote that cause. All by his little weasely self.  
  
"Yes," I mumble. "Bed."  
  
Molly nods, forcing a small smile as she stands. "Don't worry, Sakuma-san. We'll get this all figured out tomorrow. Everything will look better in the morning. It always does, donchaknow."  
  
My employees, who really have more control over my life than I have over theirs, make their way to the door and subsequently disappear back to their respective flats. I wait, counting to thirty in my head, just to be sure they are gone, before I stand up and head for the master bathroom.  
  
I assure you, it isn't as hard to regurgitate pills as one might think. You just have to do it quickly, before they dissolve in your stomach.   
  
I grip the sides of the toilet tightly as a day's worth of food returns. Bile mixed with popcorn and pizza is more foul than bile on it's own, I think. By the time I'm finished, my face is covered in sweat and drops of sick. As I stand and flush, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  
  
There's a bandage on my forehead, right below the hairline. My left arm, from wrist to elbow, is wrapped in gauze. My face, pallid with dark circles under the eyes, stares back at me, strange and unfamiliar. There's blood on my shirt, and on my sleeve.   
  
I look like the victim of some terrible crime.  
  
No one would recognize me now, I think. I could go shopping in the busiest mall in Tokyo, and no one would suspect that I'm Sakuma Ryuichi, lead singer of Nittle Grasper.  
  
I peel off my clothes as gingerly as possible.  
  
I need a shower.   
  
The water is warm, cleansing to both body and spirit. And yet, all I can think about is Shuichi. Shuichi curled into a ball in this same shower.   
  
"It hurts so much, I want to die." That is what he said.  
  
When the pain is too great, that is all you can think about. That is the only answer you can come up with. Death will stop the hurting.  
  
I don't want Shuichi to die.  
  
I don't...I can't watch someone I love leave me again.  
  
Yes. That's it. I have to protect Shuichi now. Now more than before. Even if his mind becomes shattered like the guitar Tomi gave me. I have to protect Shuichi...  
  
From himself.  
  
I climb out of the shower and drape my robe around my shoulders. My penthouse looms dark and utterly quiet, as I pad down the hall and find the last door on the right.   
  
Shuichi looks so peaceful now, sleeping in that oversized bed. Like he might be dreaming about Pocky or some exciting new lyrics. But, I know... I know what the truth is. He's dreaming about Yuki-san.  
  
Just keep dreaming, Shuichi. Live out the happiness you wanted so desperately, if only for a few hours.   
  
I sit down on the edge of the bed and stare at the glittering lights of the city of Tokyo through the balcony windows. Out there, on the streets, and in the buildings, people whisper words of love to one another without a thought that tomorrow might bring an end to happiness. Right now, lovers and their beloveds must be saying that one word to each other...that one word which they mean with the whole of their hearts.  
  
Forever.  
  
You sleep, Shuichi. You sleep and dream. And for now, I'll keep watch and hold back the dawn as long as I can. I'll help you pretend for as long as I can...  
  
That 'forever' isn't a lie.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
At first, I didn't think much of it. Tomi caught colds at the drop of a hat. That autumn had been particularly dreary, with rain followed only by more rain.   
  
I'd been working on the first Nittle Grasper CD. Long hours in the crappiest studio on the planet. But, I was happy, because I got to sing, because I had brilliant bandmates, and because I had Tomi. The only thing that could have made me happier was if Tomi's health hadn't been so bad.  
  
I remember that day very clearly. Strange, I have a mind like a sieve, but I can remember -everything- about that day.  
  
Though I was walking home through the rain at 10:00 in the evening, my mood couldn't have been better. I had that clear plastic umbrella, the one Tomi liked so much because you could look up through the panels and watch the rain falling. I was carrying a bag of assorted stuff from the convenience store down the street from our apartment. Toothpaste. Three oranges. A box of tea. Light-bulbs. And some cold medicine for Tomi.  
  
I climbed the stairs quietly, hoping I wouldn't wake him, that he'd be asleep on the couch like always, an open book on his chest, his reading glasses crooked.   
  
But, he wasn't. He was sitting on that ratty old couch, watching the television (Tomi never watched television), with a bottle of off-brand alcohol next to a half-emptied glass. (Tomi never drank.)  
  
"Tomi?"  
  
He smiled at me then. When I think about it now, it breaks my heart all over again. What he knew...what he was about to say...and he still smiled. He smiled just to ease my worries.  
  
"Come sit by me, Ryu-chan, 'kay?"   
  
I did as he asked, leaving the plastic bag on the table. The handle slowly wilted to one side like a time-lapse documentary of the life of a flower. I scooted next to him, waiting for him to lean over and smell my hair like he always did. I'd started using these fruit scented shampoos, just to keep him guessing. But, mostly I used the strawberry one, since it was his favorite.   
  
But, instead of popping up and telling me which fruit my hair smelled like, Tomi just leaned his cheek against the crown of my head and wrapped his arms around me. He hugged me so tightly, it almost hurt. And he didn't let go.  
  
"Ryuichi, I want you to know that I love you, okay? Now and forever. Forever and ever. Just like I promised..."  
  
Right about then, I was really getting freaked out. The timbre of his voice made my heart feel as if it were being dropped from a bridge. "Tomi? Tomi, what's wrong?"  
  
He pulled me even closer as he explained. It seemed like it took hours, but I know it was just a few sentences. He said that he went back in to the doctor's office. They had his test results. And then Tomi said a word which horrified me beyond any word I'd ever heard.  
  
Leukemia.  
  
I didn't even know what it -was-, but I'd watched enough television to know that it was very, very, very bad.  
  
Now, now I know quite a bit about leukemia. How this malignant cancer of blood-forming tissues slowly eats away at a person. I know the difference between acute leukemia and chronic myelogenous leukemia. I know treatments and cutting-edge research. Pretty much everything there is to know about leukemia, I know.  
  
I hate studying, but I devoured every single piece of information I could get my hands on about the disease...  
  
The disease which was killing Tomi.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
One year later, Tomi couldn't live at home anymore. I'd taken care of him as best I could, but with his medicine and doctor's bills so high, I also had to spend a lot of time working. I hated it, I hated him being in that hospital, instead of at home. But, it got to where Tomi couldn't really move around without my help. He was so weak. Because of the medicines and treatments, all his weird puppet-hair had fallen out. He looked like a skeleton. It hurt my heart to look at him.  
  
But, I did my best not to cry, or to let him know how scared I was...for both our sakes. Any little happy thing I could think of, I did. Sing him songs, or read him those stupid children's books he always liked. Since we couldn't go for walks in the park anymore, I took pictures of the autumn leaves and had them blown up really big to put in his room.   
  
Those last weeks, I didn't even go home anymore. Tomi's parents had always been so kind to me, and they lied to the hospital for my sake, telling them that I was Tomi's brother so they'd let me stay in the room. He was so sick. Sometimes, he could barely even curl his fingers around mine when I held his hand.  
  
And those damn doctors, they couldn't do anything. Just -nothing-. Nothing but make him sleep more.   
  
He'd had a good morning that day. He couldn't really eat anymore, and was being fed through a tube, but I could give him little crushed bits of popsicles. Popsicle breakfast that day was orange and cherry. Tomi said that he wished popsicles came in strawberry, because it would be like eating my hair. I made a resolution, right then, to find strawberry popsicles if any existed on the planet Earth.  
  
I was telling him something, about some band or something. Just jabbering away. Just trying to keep his mind occupied.   
  
"Ryuichi..."  
  
"Yup?" I kneeled down close to his bed and pressed my face against his hand. "Whatcha need, Tomi?"  
  
"I always suspected I might just be an ordinary man, living an ordinary life. And then, I met you. And I realized I was still an ordinary man, but with an extraordinary love for an extraordinary man."  
  
"Oh Tomi," I said, rubbing my cheek on his fingers, "You're so wonderful to me. I love you so much. I'd do anything for you, you know?"  
  
"Yes, I know." he replied, closing his eyes. Even light conversation wore him out. "Will you sing for me, Ryuichi?"  
  
"Of course, na no da."   
  
And so I did. I sang "Be There". And when I got to the part...  
  
"If you consider me...to be your burden...I will say 'so long' anytime. But, I only hope that, you'll be there, anytime..."  
  
Tomi squeezed my hand.  
  
If I had known he was saying goodbye, I would have told him I loved him a thousand more times, just to make sure he understood. If I had known it was the end I would have at least...at least...  
  
Sang a happier song.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I wake up in a strange room as my head strikes something hard. But, the pain in my head pales in comparison to the gnawing panic rising in my stomach. I spasm and curl into a ball, automatically defending against the sudden thought that I might be dying.  
  
Roughness against my cheek. Carpet.  
  
Where am I? Where am I? It's dark but...if I open my eyes I can see a balcony, and lights beyond. There's a city here. Is this Tokyo? This must be Tokyo, but I don't recognize this view.  
  
I hear my own breath, gasping. Gasping for air. Am I drowning? Something is terribly, terribly wrong. Something is missing.  
  
"Tomi?"  
  
I feel around in the dark, trying to find any clue at all. Anything familiar. Anything to let me know that I haven't woken up in someone else's skin.  
  
"Tomi? Where are you?"  
  
My hand smacks against something hard. I feel it like a blind man, as I use my other arm to drag myself across the carpet. For some reason, my arm hurts.  
  
"TOMI! TOMI! I can't find you! I can't find Kumagoro!!"  
  
It's wooden. It's a nightstand. There's a bed next to it. This isn't my bed, but...maybe...maybe we're in a hotel or something.  
  
"Tomi! Are you..."  
  
Something as light as a butterfly's kiss strokes the back of my hand. Warm flesh curls slowly around my wrist, tapered fingers that cause me to become still. There's no reason to panic. I'm not lost. Tomi is still here.  
  
"Ryuichi...you were...screaming."  
  
That voice is so soft, tired. But even that simple whispered phrase sets my heart at ease.  
  
"Tomi, I'm sorry. I had a nightmare. I thought you died."  
  
"Ryuichi, it's me. It's Shu...." The voice halts suddenly. I hear the figure in the bed change positions, "It's alright now. Nothing happened. You just fell out of bed."  
  
"I can't find Kumagoro, Tomi."  
  
"You dropped him at..." There's a gentle tug on my wrist. "You dropped him. But, he's fine for now. Come sleep, okay?"  
  
I climb up onto the bed, favoring my right arm, since my left one hurts. I must have bumped it when I fell off the bed. I seem to be wearing a nice fluffy bath robe. I wonder why. I don't usually sleep with any clothes. Well, I'll remember in the morning, I'm sure.  
  
I slip under the covers. It's already warm here. Tomi must have been sleeping in this spot. He probably kept scooting closer and closer to me until I rolled off the bed. Ha! Silly, Ryu-chan. Silly Tomi. We'll have a good laugh about this in the morning.  
  
Rolling over, I snake my arm out across Tomi's chest, pulling myself closer to his side. I can feel his hip bone against my thigh. Tomi makes a surprised noise as I bring my knee up and drape my legs over his.  
  
"Did I hurt you, Tomi?" I whisper in his ear.  
  
"No, um...it's...it's okay." Tomi's hand caresses my upper arm, rhythmically drawing me away from all worries.  
  
Hmmm. I'm so sleepy, all of a sudden. My heavy eyelids are dragging me back towards Neverland.   
  
"Okay, goodnight, Tomi. Oh. Let's have pancakes tomorrow. With whipped cream...and sprinkles...and cherries...and..."  
  
As I lose consciousness, I'm struck with one last realization.  
  
Tomi must be using my shampoo.  
  
His hair smells distinctly like strawberries.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
In Our Next Chapters: The second confrontation. Kumagoro is missing, what does this mean for Ryuichi? What happens in the morning when Ryuichi wakes up to find...he's sleeping with Shuichi? What of Tohma and Yuki? Does Yuki really still love Shuichi? The web of lies and deceit unravels all the more. I hope you will stay tuned!  
  
***Author Notes:  
  
Well, a lot of people already guessed what Ryuichi and Shuichi saw that caused Ryuichi to go a bit psycho. But, is there more to it?   
  
Ryuichi is much more psychotic in this chapter, but I hope it isn't -too- overdone. Well, maybe a smidgen overdone. Not a very happy chapter, I'm afraid. I used a bit of Kleenex writing it.  
  
Some people have asked me, (in regards to this story, and another of my stories "Sundial") if I have had experience in being insane. I'm not exactly sure what to say to that. I think everyone harbors some psychosis to some degree, maybe some more than others. But, personally, except for some rough bits in my late teens and early twenties, I'm pretty well adjusted. Or, I like to think so, anyway. I have had numerous troubled friends, though. Then again, don't we all have a few friends like that?  
  
I'm sorry that this chapter took a bit longer than the previous three. I spent last weekend at a convention, and didn't get as much writing time in. PLus, the two times I attempted to post this, ff.net was down.  
  
***Review Notes:  
  
As always, a million and one thank-yous to everyone who reviewed. I've really been quite surprised at the response to this story, and I hope it continues to grow. So, extra doubleplus syrupy thank yous to:  
  
kitty-nickle (Glad you are enjoying the story!), Kit-Nyah (Not too angsty this time, I hope?), Hotaru007 (Thanks for reading!), Catastrophe (Woowoo, all tied up!), Rabid Bat (Lima beans? ICK! Wink.), Sani (Thanks for reading!), anon, Ranger (The ending should be somewhat happy, I hope), Burned Vamp (Cough, cough? Heheh. I hope it isn't -that- bad.), The Demonic Duo (Woohoo, Hooray for obsessions!), pinksakuya (Hehehe. Attack-mode-Ryuichi. That's funny. He does need to be on someone's leash sometimes.), Aibyouka (Was your theory correct? Don't bounce too long, you'll put a hole in the floor!), CassiToTheStars (Glad you are enjoying the story!), Bisexual Pygmy (Hahaha. At least I didn't make him wear a dress this chapter, eh?), kitty-nickle (Thank you so much for your kind words!), hopemia (That Tohma does need a punch every now and then, doesn't he?),   
  
Yma: I know exactly what you mean about parents splitting up and then talking like you can't hear them. I've been thought that several times, and it is certainly no fun. Thanks for stopping by my site, btw. Hehehe. No one really ever does, I think. And, thanks again for all your kind words, I hope the story continues to amuse you. :D   
  
Lasaire: The dressing room could have been a lot steamier, too. But, then I don't think they'd let me show this story on ff.net anymore. Chuckle. I agree with you about Tohma being a -total- mystery. You just never know what he is really thinking. Ever. Ryuichi is, indeed, very intense. I hope more of that leaks out over the course of the story. I just don't think there have been many opportunities for that quiet intensity to poor out, yet.  
  
Veleda: Poor Ryuichi, eh? He never seems to get a break when it comes to love. And I never thought, in the anime or manga, that Shuichi was very attractive. But, I think with a few years and a bit of maturity (like in this story), he'd be very much so. Well, I am glad you are enjoying the story. :D   
  
Fire Dragon of Darkness: I am glad you are enjoying the characterization of Ryuichi. He's a bit different in this chapter, but I hope it is an understandable sort of different.  
  
noali: I hope you aren't -too- disappointed. Anyway, either in the next chapter, or the one after, it will be revealed -why- Yuki would do such a horrible thing. There is actually a reason. I think the ending is happy, but others may find it sad, I'm not sure.  
  
hidesfaerie: That Tohma can be crafty, can't he? I say we all get our baseball bats and go smash his car together!  
  
xpyne!: What's up with the skirts? Hmmm, I don't know. I guess I just like a man in a skirt. It's so very lovely, no? Your school dance sounds quite delicious. I hope you had fun!  
  
Wakaba-sama: Ice cream is, indeed, good. Unfortunately, I am lactose intolerant. Sigh. Wanting ice cream, but never being about to have it without consequences. :( Anyway, hooray for secret naked photos!  
  
kohana-chan: Ack! What a scary comment. I think my heart skipped a beat before I got to the "just kidding"!  
  
Twylise: I'm glad you don't find the "Tomi" backstory to be -too- distracting. Original characters can be such a put-off, I know. Anyway, yeah, I dislike stories that make Yuki hate Shuichi for no reason. And, I swear, the reasons for all of Yuki's actions will be revealed in the next few chapters. Thanks again for reading.  
  
I'm sorry if I missed any thank-yous. My computer is being a bit wonky at the moment. Please know that your reviews are highly cherished. :D 


	5. Cello Suite

I recommend Bach's "Sarabande" or other cello concertos as an accompaniment to reading this chapter.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 5: Cello Suite  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
A list of things which are warm and soft. Kittens. Newly made cotton candy. Bunny slippers. Grass in the summertime. Chaste kisses on one's eyelids.   
  
It seems that whatever Cosmic Power holds us within Its firm but benevolent grasp wishes to make it known that all things 'warm and soft' shall give mankind joy and solace.  
  
I shall have to add to my list. I shall have to add "The staccato breath upon my neck", and "The downy hair nestled against over my shoulder".  
  
Something, some preternatural creature born of silken cobwebs and glistening honeysuckle flowers lays pressed into my body, molding itself to my form. I can not tell, at this lazy hour of post-dawn golden luster, where my skin ends and his begins. We are tangled together into the blankets, trussed up by ropes of flannel sheets, Sainted Martyrs to Song held captive some twenty plus floors above Tokyo.  
  
The world, silently holy save for our sinful breathing, remains tenuously inviolate as my eyes open. My gaze runs along the lithe cord of arm which begins with fingers lying against my left temple, their tips immersed in the hair above my ear, to a pale and beveined wrist only inches from my lips, along muscled flesh toward the sensitive inner divot of elbow resting on my chest, and finally over the plains of upper arm bespeckled with baby hairs that bristle slightly at the contact of my breath. There, at the junction of arm and shoulder, I spy the gentle slope of neck, the sculpture of the twin paths of collarbone and jawbone, and a chin which at its apex owns lips that surely must be composed entirely of hard watermelon-flavored candy.   
  
I realize two things simultaneously.   
  
This is Shuichi wrapped around me. And, my face is slowly moving towards his, intent upon claiming those sugar-sweet lips as a prize without my mind's permission.  
  
I stop myself immediately. Oh Gods, the difficulty rating of that particular self-restraint is enough to rip a small growl from my throat. What the hell is wrong with me? I can't kiss Shuichi, What sort of depraved individual would even consider taking advantage of such a situation? Shuichi is not mine, and indulging in such liberties would only be regrettably self-serving.   
  
But, just...one kiss? One taste, just to know... One nibble of that exquisitely inviting flesh could satisfy the parched yearning taking root within my throat. Just one kiss...just once...I would not be tempted to take more than this, I promise. I wouldn't even think such thoughts ever again, if I could just...  
  
No. No, no, no, no, no. Wouldn't that make me exactly like Tohma? Taking whatever I wanted. Forcing myself upon the broken-hearted. And, knowing Shuichi, he might even let me. I've found that the boundary between friend and lover, especially in times of a crisis of the heart, is generally demarcated with a line visible only under a microscope.  
  
Definitely no kissing. I've already crossed a forbidden threshold just being in bed with him. Which reminds me... How exactly, did I get here?  
  
How did I...  
  
Oh.  
  
Ohhhhhhhhh.  
  
I stifle a groan as the events of the previous night all come flooding back. I must have fallen asleep while sitting on the edge of Shuichi's bed. Nightmares. Falling onto the floor. Waking up with that horrible sinking feeling in my stomach, the indefatigable panic that I might be alone in this world. And then I was saved. I was saved by Tomi who was, as it is now obvious, Shuichi.  
  
He saved -me-.  
  
It makes me feel mildly better to know that Shuichi feels that I am worth saving. The sentiment touches me, even makes me smile, unwarranted though it may be. Then again, maybe he just wanted me to stop screaming.  
  
I need to get out of this bed -right now-. My hands wish desperately to clasp Shuichi to my chest and do things which... Which would not be right. Why do I always do this? Anything forbidden is only made more tantalizing in my eyes. I use any means to possess it, manipulation, bribery, lies. The harder and more illicit the pursuit, the more I crave it.   
  
I just want once more to find, to touch, to view, the happiness I once had in Tomi's arms. But, it never appears. In the end, I leave a trail of broken men and women in my wake. After I broke down their walls, they gave everything to me. And I gave them nothing. Nothing.  
  
I'm just like Tohma. I'm as wicked as he. And Tohma knows it.  
  
Carefully, I pry Shuichi's hand away from my hair, and lift his arm from my chest. Extricating myself from the warm body pressed into my side feels a great deal like having an extra limb suddenly fall off. Even as I slide away from Shuichi, I can still feel where he was, where it seems he should be.   
  
Ah, so this must be what Adam felt like when the rib which formed Eve was pulled from his chest. What Osiris felt like when Isis couldn't find that last, vital bit of his body. This is the desolation of the Sea when it gave up Aphrodite.  
  
Shuichi whimpers in his sleep as I place his arm back on the bed. I can hear him nuzzling the covers, shifting in his sleep as he searches for not what he lost, but what somehow lost him. I sit on the edge of the mattress, bending down towards the floor to grab one of a dozen large pillows which normally decorate the bed. I mean to place it under his arms, let him snuggle this object since Yuki Eiri won't be, I certainly shouldn't be, Shuichi's anchor.  
  
But, when I turn back around, my breath catches in my throat. Can eyes as bright as colored diamonds ever be termed 'sleepy'? If so, then those sleepy jewels peer up at me, unable to bear any deceit. Shuichi's hair juts a dozen different directions, like some sort half-hearted pink-and-blue cactus. My gaze can't help but catch on his eyebrow, and the metal trinket plunged through giving flesh. I shudder, and try hopelessly to keep my thoughts chaste.  
  
"Hey," he says, doing some sort of bizarre but terribly erotic smacking motion with his lips, as if they were numb and he was checking to make sure they still worked.  
  
"Hey." I'm entranced. I can't move. What do I say, Kumagoro? What do I... Oh, right. Kumagoro isn't here. I flinch at that thought. I really have nothing to hold onto, now.  
  
"It's okay," Shuichi whispers, his voice a smidgen raspy, "You don't have to go." He reaches out to catch hold of a bit of my robe at my hip.  
  
I smile. I don't know if it is forced, or if it is real. I don't want Shuichi to see the wickedness behind my eyes. "I was...I was going to see about breakfast."  
  
"No." His voice takes on the childish whine which was more prevalent when I first met him. Shuichi tugs on the robe like a kid trying to get someone taller's attention. "I mean, could you stay? For a little while? I mean, if you can't, that's okay. I don't want to take advantage of you, but...I...I...."  
  
Gar. He's only been awake two minutes, if that, and already I've made him cry. Or, I've made him think of Yuki-san, and -that's- making him cry. Either way, that's no way to start a morning.   
  
This is a bad idea. This is a very, very, very bad idea. But, what else can I do?  
  
Dropping the pillow, I lift my legs back onto the bed and slide towards Shuichi. "No, I don't mind, na no da," I reply as I guide his arm back across my chest. Instinctively, Shuichi settles into my side, lifting his head to rest it on my shoulder, pressing his torso against my ribs, his upper legs (thankfully covered in pajama bottoms) nestled against my thigh. A couple of tears roll down his face and end up pooling against my collarbone.   
  
Shuichi cries for some minutes, sniffling every few seconds, hugging my side and hiding his face in my shoulder. I just let him. Sometimes you have to cry. I imagine that people who don't cry are even worse off than people who don't laugh. It must be terribly lonely to travel the world, untouched by anything.  
  
"S..sorry," Shuichi finally says as his sobs abate. "You must think I do nothing but cry."  
  
"I'd be more worried if you didn't cry at all." I run my fingers through his hair. I shouldn't, but I do. I'm momentarily fascinated by the puzzle of trying to make it all go the same direction. "You can cry all you want. I don't mind."  
  
"Do you...um...uh..." Shuichi removes his face from his shoulder and looks up at me, "Need to take your pills?"  
  
Is he worried about me? Or is he worried that I might flip out? How can he be worried at all, I wonder? How can he think of others while his heart is so obviously torn to shreds. "Nah. I'll be fine for now. The pills are for anxiety attacks and...uh..." Manic depression. Social anxiety. Severe dysphoria. Nightmares. "You don't think I'm crazy, do you, Shu-chan?"  
  
Shuichi puts his head back upon my shoulder. He's quiet for a few moments, and I'm mildly worried that he's just thinking of a nice way to tell me that I am, in fact, the most insane person he's ever met. Finally, he whispers, "No. I think you are more like a stormy cloud. You're charged with so much electricity that you warp the world around you as you pass, scenting the air with static, making the world buzz in anticipation of the rain. But, like a cloud, reigning above the world supreme and untouchable, you can not help but be filled with lightning that sometimes escapes your heart without your permission."  
  
A knot forms in my throat. Now -I- want to cry. Save for Tomi, no one has ever said such a thing to me. I can't help but pull Shuichi into a tight hug. How can he be so kind?   
  
And, I don't care what Yuki Eiri says, Shuichi's brilliant. You can see it in his lyrics, and at times like this, you can hear it in his words.  
  
We lay together for some time, watching the city below come to life, reflecting upon internal thoughts, warmed by each other. Everything, in this bed, seems so focused, so clear. Safe. If only I could stay here, letting the world cease to be, my fans and by fame withering away into nothing, I could be...  
  
I might become...  
  
Unfathomably happy.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The second time I leave the bed, I'm actually successful in letting Shuichi remain asleep. We spoke no words about what we saw the previous night, nor did we breach the topic of Yuki-san, or Tohma, or the events which followed. It's probably a good thing, since I'm pretty sure Shuichi would have shut down if forced to confront those memories.  
  
I make my way down the hall and find Molly and Ten sitting in my living room. Ten is ignoring my presence by reading the newspaper. Molly, on the other hand, gives me a more guilt-producing glare than even my own mother could ever muster.  
  
I flex my hand, again and again, as I sit down on the couch. My hand, that's where Kumagoro should be. My knee bounces nervously. I need something to hold onto, so I grab a pillow.  
  
Molly is wearing a dark blue jacket and a skirt that comes past her knees. It's the most expensive suit she owns. A Chanel original. Her short, bobbed coif sports so much hair-spray it's become immobile.  
  
The last time she dressed up like this, she had to tell the press that several Nittle Grasper tour dates had been postponed due to the fact that I had contracted strep-throat. (True.) And, I was so ill that I could not leave my bed. (False. I was actually having a grand time watching cartoons and coloring giant paper murals to give to friends.)  
  
Molly purses her lips and nudges the tray on the table containing my breakfast (and pills) towards me. "That wasn't the bed I had in mind when I told you to go to bed."  
  
I say nothing. I just glare at her, daring her to continue. For fuck's sake, I'm thirty-three years old. Alright, maybe I don't have any idea how to drive a car, and I have a penchant for setting my own home on fire, but I'm not a child! I know what I am doing! I have to know what I am doing, or otherwise, what am I but a wind-up singing toy to be used by others?  
  
Why can't I figure out how to be in control of my own life?   
  
Why does everything have to spiral into chaos?  
  
Like a jar of marbles, spilled out onto the floor, scattering in a thousand different directions. Rush, rush to get them all, rush rush to put them all in order, to categorize and catalog and label before someone comes to spill them again.  
  
This is what it means by 'losing your marbles'.  
  
Seeing that I am not going to make any sort of comment about spending the night in Shuichi's bed, Molly changes the subject. "I have to go meet your lawyer to find out what will happen if Yuki Eiri files the restraining order against you or Shindou-san. And then I have a meeting with Seguchi-san..."  
  
Snarl.  
  
"...to explain why you were across town without a bodyguard..."  
  
I don't think my physical safety is high on the list of Tohma's concerns.  
  
"Ten will stay here with you. Please don't...please just try to..."  
  
Behave myself? Act like nothing happened?  
  
"Rest. I can tell you are worn out, Sakuma-san, even if you don't want to admit it to yourself. This ordeal is hard on you." Molly reaches across the table to touch my hand as I place my glass of juice back on the coaster. "Getting any more hurt won't help you or Shindou-san."  
  
My indignation melts at the tone of Molly's voice. She and Ten mean to be helpful, really they do, and to protect me. It is my error to think ill of them. They work so hard, and all I do is continually make more trouble.  
  
I mumble some sort of promise to Molly to do my best to rest today. Resting will be good. Shuichi needs rest. I need rest. We're both drained physically and emotionally.   
  
Ten turns the page of his newspaper. Without even looking up, he asks, "Where's Kumagoro?"  
  
I stare at the floor. It's a very expensive carpet, just like ones I saw in America. When you walk on it, strands squish in between your toes. Like walking on clouds, I think. Or maybe like walking on mashed potatoes, which I've never done, but now that I think about it, I fully intend to try it someday.  
  
"Time to post up the 'Missing Bunny' posters, eh?"  
  
I almost choke on my toast as I look over in Ten's direction. His bulky form ripples as he shakes to paper to get it to quit falling over at the edges. Why he doesn't just fold it into four pieces like normal people, I'll never know. The serious expression on his face never changes as he continues to taunt me.  
  
"Wanted, Dead or Alive, Criminal Mastermind, Kumagoro, Rabbit And Fashion Victim Extraordinaire."  
  
My eyes grow wide. I can't believe he's actually making fun of poor Kuma-chan, na no da! This is a serious situation. Kumagoro could be in peril! I mean, if he is at Yuki-san's house, he must -certainly- be in the very real danger of having to confront meanie grumpiness and intolerable boredom!  
  
"Eh, I wouldn't worry about it, Sakuma-san," Ten says, trying to hide his smirk by raising his paper. "Kumagoro always was far more crafty and intelligent than you, ne? I'm sure he can take care of himself."  
  
Well, it -is- true that Kumagoro holds a doctorate in the field of Hophopology. And, he -is- a blackbelt in pikajutsu, the martial art of defeating others with shinyness. But, what if...  
  
"And, anyway, he has your cellphone in his pouch, doesn't he? If he's in trouble, I'm sure he'll call."  
  
Of course he will. I don't know why I was so worried.  
  
Sometimes, I don't know what I would do....  
  
If I didn't have such kind and caring friends.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I could really use some booze.  
  
I adore vodka. Vodka sours. Vodka Collins. Screwdrivers. If you get a really smooth vodka, and a really pure orange juice, and mix them just right, you get what I like to call a Glass Screwdriver. Because it tastes just like what you would imagine orange-tinted glass would taste like if you could drink it. And it looks just like a sunset. Just like a perfectly golden sunset you could drink.  
  
From what I understand, that's what I was drinking when they found me. Correction. When -Tohma- found me.   
  
Now, I don't remember much about that day. I do remember a few flashes of things. The blood on porcelain of the bathtub felt just like silk. I rubbed my fingers on it, and it was slippery. I drew a picture of Tomi on the tiles of the wall with the blood, with silky silky blood. Cause I wanted him to be there with me as I died, just like I was there with him.  
  
Otherwise, it would have been too lonely.  
  
There was some time without sound. Things happened, but I couldn't get a good fix on the noises associated with them. No, wait. I shouldn't say there was -no- sound. I definitely heard a cello. Yes, there was a cello playing Bach's 'Sarabande', very slow and sleepy. And all the discordant flutters of the low notes reminded me of Tomi's voice, late at night, when my head was on his chest and he'd talk to me about nothing in particular.  
  
And I remember that Tohma looked very worried. That scared me some, because Tohma never seems to worry about much. And, even if he is worried, he doesn't show it.  
  
Tohma was dragging me out of the tub, and yelling, and kept slapping me on the side of the cheek. But, I was really calm. Really, really calm, you know? I asked him if he thought that the cello was the loveliest instrument, even more lovely than the guitar or the sax. I felt really bad, right then, for never taking Tomi to see a good cellist before he died. Because I think he would have liked that.  
  
Well, I don't remember anything for a few days after that. I woke up in the hospital. Tohma was there when I did. He looked like he'd been in a fight with several dozen zombies from Zeta Povira Six. Tohma was holding onto my hand like I was going to run off to somewhere good and leave him behind. So, I told him not to worry about it, because right then I didn't feel so much like running, due to the fact that I mostly hurt all over.  
  
Tohma said to me as I laid there in that hospital bed, "You stupid, stupid, stupid man. You're so stupid. Why do you have to be so incredibly stupid?"  
  
I just bit my lip and shrugged a little. Well, I don't know why I am stupid. Just born that way, I guess.  
  
I asked Tohma if he thought Tomi would come to visit me in the hospital. Because, he probably didn't much like hospitals anymore. But, I thought it might be nice if Tomi stopped by and looked in on me. I would have liked to know what Tomi thought about the whole cello situation, and if he had any opinions on Bach, in general.  
  
"Oh, god Ryuichi," Tohma said. I couldn't see his eyes because he had one of those hats of his on his head, "Can't you stop thinking about him for just one second? For just one second, can't you just figure out how to care about yourself instead of everyone else?"  
  
I think Tohma went on, after that. He said a lot of things, but I wasn't really listening. I was watching his face, though. Tohma has the oddest complexion. Like baby peaches. Like peaches that haven't quite figured out how to become all the way pink yet. His lips just kept moving, and I guess he was saying something really important. I wish I could say I was -thinking- about something important, but I wasn't. Because I was actually just wondering if Tohma liked peaches.  
  
Come to think of it, peaches soaked in vodka are really good, too. Especially when they are fed to you by someone lovely. It wouldn't take much to find someone to feed me peaches right now. I could just go to the nearest bar, sit down, and get the first person who asked me for an autograph if they'd come back to my place. You wouldn't think this would work, but actually it does.  
  
Yes. They'd feed me whatever I asked. Then, I would look deep into their eyes as I licked the vodka off their fingers. If they didn't run away at that point, then I would know they would let me take whatever I wanted. They'd give me everything, just for those minutes. I would be the absolute center of their world, cherished and adored. And maybe, for a few minutes, maybe just for a second, my mind would finally stop. Everything would stop pressing in on me. Until all the noise and pain washed away leaving only that solitary cello playing Sarabande.  
  
Sometimes, it sounds like two cellos, though.  
  
Though, I can hear it quite plainly right now, due to the fact that I am listening to it on my CD player on repeat in the darkness of the library. After Molly left, I came in here and built a tent with a blanket. I draped one corner over one pinball machine, and the other corner over another pinball machine. I took all the pillows in the house, except for the ones in Shuichi's room, and stuffed them inside my fortress.   
  
Sometimes, you just need to build a castle to protect against the siege of sadness while you think things out.  
  
And, it's probably a better idea than going to a bar. Not that I could. Ten would shoot me in the foot before he'd let me leave.  
  
It's about 10:00 in the morning. Shuichi is still in bed, but I don't expect he'll probably get up much at all today. I'll go see if he'll eat some toast, later. If Kumagoro was here, I could ask Kuma-chan to tell Shuichi some happy story about ducks or pickles or something. But, Kuma-chan isn't here.  
  
I'm worried about Kumagoro.  
  
I'm worried about Shuichi.  
  
And, I'm still angry at Tohma and Yuki-san. Well, not as angry as I was, but still angry. I think, more than that, I'm just perplexed. Even if Yuki-san didn't love Shuichi anymore, that's no reason to be so cruel. I mean, I know that I've been just as cruel, but I'm just a useless and stupid person. Yuki-san doesn't seem stupid.   
  
No, that isn't it.   
  
No. I just don't think that Shuichi has it in him to love someone who is altogether a bad egg. Or, maybe he would. Maybe Shuichi loves everyone because he's just that good-hearted.  
  
It's all so confusing. And, thinking -that- makes me even -more- upset. Because, it means that Tohma was right. It -is- too complicated for me to understand.   
  
Tohma's always been there for me, and Noriko too. Been there to help me. It isn't that I don't perceive what is going on around me. I'm very good at watching and seeing what is really going on with a person. But, sometimes I let it affect me a bit too much.  
  
How can I... How can I claim to have any moral high ground where Tohma is concerned? What could I possibly say to prove that what he is doing is wrong? Tohma knows everything about me. He knows everything, especially where to put the knife.  
  
I'm worried about Shuichi. But, I'm also scared. I'm scared to lose my very best friend, who has always been there for me, who takes care of my money and makes sure I'm looked after, who came to sit with me in the hospital and hold my hand.   
  
And, I don't think we'll be able to be friends after this.   
  
Which means there won't be any Nittle Grasper, either. How could I sing songs for Tomi, if my keyboardist broke Shuichi's heart and I let him get away with it? Tomi would know. He'd think that I didn't really care so much about love, after all.  
  
These are the things I'm thinking about, with my face smushed into a pillow and Bach leaking into my ears.   
  
And that's when Shuichi's phone rings.  
  
I've been carrying it around all day. Five times, I dialed almost all of the digits in Tohma's phone number just to tell him that he's an asshole. Three times, I almost called Noriko. Twice I considered calling Yuki-san and demanding an explanation -and- Kumagoro. And once, just once, I thought about calling Mika-san and telling her what a complete shit Tohma is.  
  
I thought about it -really- hard.  
  
But, I like Mika-san too much to hurt her like that.  
  
So, I pick up Shuichi's phone and press the pink plastic against my ear.  
  
"Um. Hello?"  
  
If it's Yuki Eiri, I'm going to scream loud enough to burst his eardrum. If it's Tohma...  
  
"Shuichi?" The voice is low, calm, and quiet, "Shuichi? Are you okay? K just called me and said some stuff that didn't make a lot of sense."  
  
Oh. It's Hiroshi-kun. "No. This is Ryuichi."  
  
"Where's Shuichi? Why are you answering his phone? Is he okay?"  
  
"He's fine. Sleeping across the hall."  
  
And that...that is when I hear the most distraught, pained, excruciatingly heartbreaking scream I've ever heard. It sounds not at -all- like a cello, and more like someone trying to rip out their own vocal cords with a fork.   
  
It is followed, almost immediately, by two successive crashes.   
  
I'm running before I know I am running, pillows flying behind me as I burst out of the library and ram my head into the door for Shuichi's room. Then, I remember to use the doorknob.  
  
Tricky doorknobs. I struggle with it for a few seconds. Who came up with those dumb things, anyway?  
  
The door to Shuichi's room slams open, even though I don't think I'm pushing it that hard. My blood is racing through my veins so fast, I think my heart is liable to crawl its way up my throat and jump out of my mouth.  
  
I look, right, left. Where is Shuichi? I see a smashed lamp. I see an overturned nightstand. I see a bed with blankets so messed up they look like a pile of scrambled eggs. No. No Shuichi.  
  
As I am standing there looking, my bangs suddenly ripple. The warm breeze of the late morning zips across my face, tickles my hands, and brings with it the slightly burning smell of the city.   
  
The glass door to the balcony is open, and when the curtains float to the side, I can just make out Shuichi's pink hair, smooth back, and a section of his green pajama pants. He's sitting on the railing. He's six inches away from falling.  
  
Oh. No, no, Shuichi. No. Please don't.  
  
The phone drops out of my hand.  
  
"Ryuichi..." the phone buzzes, "...what's going on? Ryuichi? RYUICHI?"  
  
Very carefully, very, very carefully. I have to be very careful, because I don't want to scare him at all. I step through the broken bits of lamp, my feet protected by my big, floppy, bunny slippers. I catch hold of the curtain and pull it back. Very slowly, just like peeling a banana.   
  
The first thing I notice is Shuichi's naked feet, dangling on the other side of the railing. The bottom of the left one is cut up a bit.   
  
I guess he stepped on the bits of broken lamp.  
  
The second thing I notice is that Shuichi's fists are holding onto the ledge with such extreme pressure that his knuckles are white. That's good, I think. As long as he's holding on...  
  
Oh god. Somebody help me. Help me think of the right thing. To do. To say. Don't let Shuichi fall. Because I don't care how much he sounds like an angel when he sings, I AM ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN THAT SHUICHI CAN NOT FLY!  
  
Pull yourself together.  
  
I can do this.  
  
I -have- to do this.  
  
I walk up to the railing a few feet down from where Shuichi is sitting. Don't look down. Don't look down and think about Shuichi falling.  
  
Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god. Where's Kumagoro when I need him?  
  
Okay. Okay.  
  
If I were Shuichi, what would I be thinking, right now?  
  
Oh. Right.  
  
"Do you hear cellos, Shuichi?"  
  
Shuichi flinches a bit, but he doesn't lose his grip. Thank god. Across the rooftops, I see a half-dozen blackbirds take to the air, their wings beating out a sound that is lost by the distance. It is a sound that you see. You know it has to be there, somewhere in the air, but it gets lost on the way.  
  
"Me," I continue, "I hear cellos. A cello. Just one, but sometimes it sounds like two. I think everyone has an instrument that they can hear when all the other thoughts are finally removed from their mind. All the thoughts except the very last one. It's because you can finally hear what your heart really sounds like, without all the other stuff getting in the way. But, you know what I am talking about, don't you? You've heard it before...when you and Yuki-san...made love."  
  
Shuichi's voice comes to me, scared and unsure, as another drop of blood leaps from the bottom of his foot. "Nnn...no. Flute."  
  
Flute? I'd have never guessed. "What does it play?"  
  
"S...something...Irish...I can never tell...if it is...happy or sad. But, it makes me feel...like crying from both."  
  
Very, very carefully, I slide my hand up and place it on top of Shuichi's. His knuckles are so cold, they feel like cheesecake that's been in the fridge a few days too long. "Love is the most terrifying thing in the world, Shuichi. I know it is. After that, after love is broken, a body just wants to be broken, too. So that the body can understand what the heart is going through, to comfort it." I squeeze Shuichi's hand. "But, I'd be so sad if you died. I'd probably never sing again. And Hiroshi-kun and Fujisaki-kun, they'd be sad. And K. And your family, too. You wouldn't hurt us all...like that...on purpose...would you, Shuichi?"  
  
"No...I..." Shuichi finally looks at me. I'm surprised at how calm his face looks. He's not even crying. Maybe he's run out of tears. "I just wanted...it's horrible, but I wanted to hurt Yuki. I wanted to hurt him like he hurt me. I wanted him to know, to understand, what he's done to me. Like, maybe if I died, he'd have to carry that pain around all the time. But, at least...he'd be thinking of me."  
  
"I know." Quickly, but with extreme caution, I step behind Shuichi and slide my arms around his waist. "But, you don't want to hurt him, really. You don't have it in you to hurt someone like that, Shuichi. Or you would have already jumped."   
  
As Shuichi goes limp with a sob, I pull him off the ledge. We fall together into heap on the patio. Shuichi is holding on to me like I'm the railing, and he's still about to fall, his fingertips digging into my back almost painfully. He's writhing against me, trying to work out the pain which is exploding from within. Trying to hold on to the faith in 'forever' as it seeks to leave him.  
  
I can't do anything. I can't do anything except watch Shuichi die in ways that have nothing to do with falling from a building. I can do nothing but rub his back, and whisper, and tell him that it will be alright now. Even though it won't. And I tell him that he's not a bad person, and he didn't do anything wrong. And I tell him...that I love him.  
  
That last thing just slipped out.  
  
But, I don't think Shuichi understood it quite the way I meant it. Or, maybe he didn't hear it at all. However, the other person on the patio -did- hear it. I'm not sure how long Ten has been standing there. Maybe the whole time. Strangely enough, he doesn't look upset. Instead, he just holds Shuichi's phone up to his ear and says, "Sakuma-san is going to have to call you back."  
  
He clicks the phone closed and gazes at me, his long black ponytail swishing in the breeze.   
  
Then he smirks at me and shakes his head as if in disbelief.  
  
I have no idea what -that's- all about.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Ten puts Shuichi on the couch in the front room and I get some bandages for Shu-chan's foot. While watching Ten clean and wrap the wound, I am reminded that I -too- have bandages. For lack of anything better to do, I unwind some of the gauze a bit and look at the end of the largest cut on my arm. New scars kinda look like mashed black cherry bits. Curious, I stick my tongue out and lick it.  
  
It does -not- taste like cherry.  
  
"Stop doing that, Sakuma-san," Ten says, giving me a quick look over his shoulder as he continues to work on Shuichi's foot. Shuichi winces a little as Ten swabs it with alcohol. "And you, Shindou-san, what's gotten into you? Breaking other people's stuff..."  
  
Ten's grumpy, but he's not really mad. I can tell. When he's really mad, he doesn't talk.  
  
"I'm sorry. I heard....the phone," Shuichi says, "My phone. I thought maybe..."  
  
Oh. I get it.  
  
He thought Yuki had called. That's what set him off.  
  
"It was Hiroshi-kun," I say, trying to put my own bandage back in place. It's hard to do with only one hand. "He just called to make sure you are alright, I think."  
  
Shuichi is much calmer now. For many people, there's a sort of euphoria and temporal disassociation that sets in after both a good hard cry, and a hear-death experience. Since he just had both, I'm betting Shu-chan's feeling somewhat fuzzy at the moment.   
  
Although I don't really want to take my eyes off Shuichi, I leave him with Ten while I go to clean up the broken lamp. I should just call my penthouse the 'Place Of Many Broken Things'. Well, I'm not mad at Shuichi for breaking the lamp, though I am a little mad at the lamp for cutting Shuichi.   
  
When I come back, I find Ten and Shuichi in the kitchen. Ten has a tray out, and is building tiny cracker sandwiches with meats and cheeses and vegetables and pickles and things. He's telling Shuichi that every year, during Spring Break, aliens invade Cancun so they can feast on the life forces of drunken teenagers. I don't know if Ten really believes that or not, but he sure sounds serious.  
  
I sit down at the table next to Shu-chan.   
  
Shuichi isn't crying. He isn't talking. He's just looking off into space. Like if he could just pinpoint the very molecule, the very atom, the very nanosecond that caused his life to break into pieces, he might finally understand -why-. And then he could let go of hope and be at peace.  
  
I grab Shuichi's hand underneath the table and curl his fingers into mine.  
  
Stay with me, Shu-chan.  
  
Stay...you.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The rest of that morning and afternoon is fairly uneventful. Shuichi ate some of the cracker things and drank some orange soda while we both listened to Ten expound on cattle mutilations near someplace called Taos, New Mexico. I know this means that Ten isn't mad at us, and that he really likes Shuichi now. My bodyguard doesn't explain the intricacies of extra-terrestrial anal probing to just anyone.  
  
I'm not sure where the change came from, but it's a good one.  
  
Shuichi eventually called Hiroshi-kun back and told him that everything was fine. They talked for a while, and that really seemed to do wonders for Shu-chan's spirit. It must be great to have a best friend who you can trust to always have your back and cheer you up.  
  
I remember when I had one of those. It seems like just yesterday.  
  
Oh right, it -was- yesterday.  
  
Hiroshi-kun can't get away from his wedding planning right at the moment (due to the fact that he and Ayaka-san are at the hotel on the tiny Polynesian island where they are to be wed next month) but, he's going to try to catch a plane back to Japan later in the week to come and see Shu-chan. That's nice, I think. I really like Hiroshi-kun. I wonder if Shu-chan, Hiro-kun and I could jam when he comes to visit.  
  
Anyway, for the rest of the day, I'm a little scared to let Shuichi out of my sight. Ten too, it seems. He keeps coming to check on us every half hour.  
  
We spend most of our time in the TV room. Finding a show that doesn't make Shuichi look like he's about to burst into tears was really hard. I tried the tapes that one of my fans made me of the old American show 'I Love Lucy', but every time that Ricky yelled at Lucy for doing something stupid, Shuichi would shudder and bite his bottom lip. We tried to watch a Rurouni Kenshin marathon, which worked for a while, but then they showed the movies and I was pretty sure that Shuichi wasn't ready for the part where the lovers are torn apart by betrayal and ultimately death. Even music videos didn't work. So, we ended up watching travel shows and trying to see how many bands we could name from each country they showed. It was a hard game, but I was really surprised to find out how much Shuichi knows about European dance and club music. We didn't know any bands from Mexico, but I did tell Shuichi about my lifelong dream to start a mariachi band when I get really old. Or maybe a zydeco band. I haven't decided yet.  
  
Maybe I will go to Ireland and learn some flute music.  
  
Anyway, things calmed down a lot. Ten went and bought us like five zillion boxes of Pocky from the lobby downstairs. I was trying to draw a picture of Yo-yo Ma playing the cello, and screwing it up royally because I didn't have Kumagoro to help. I kept getting confused and looking for Kuma-chan, and Shuichi would have to tell me all over again that I'd dropped him. I felt really bad about that, so after a while I wrote a reminder on my hand as to where Kumagoro was. Problem solved.  
  
It was around five or six o'clock when there was a light knock on the door to the TV room. Shuichi had passed out somewhere between 'Exploring Iceland' and 'A Journey Through The Amazon Basin', which I thought was just fine, since I didn't know any bands from the Amazon Basin, anyway. He was sleeping all curled up in one of the big armchairs. Curled up just like a cat.  
  
I opened the door, since I didn't want to yell and wake up Shu-chan. Molly, looking mildly bedraggled in her expensive suit, stood in the hallway with a kind smile on her face.   
  
"You have a visitor, Sakuma-san."  
  
A visitor?  
  
For me?  
  
Thankfully, Shuichi and I had both eventually found some clothes to put on earlier in the day. Neither of us was really in the mood to go high-style, so I was just in some ripped up jeans (comfy) and an old Social Distortion t-shirt (cool). Not really company-greeting attire. But, what can you do?  
  
Though, it turned out not to matter. Because the person who was in my living room had seen me in much, much, worse.   
  
"NORIKO-CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!"  
  
I pounced her like a piranha attacking a steak. Or, rather, I tried to pounce her. Unfortunately, Noriko-chan knows ryuichijutsu, which is the art of completely dodging attacking Ryu-chans. Damn her and her clever ways.  
  
So, instead, finding myself on the floor, I just grabbed onto her leg and hugged it. "You came to see me! You came all the way just to see me!"  
  
"Of course I did, you silly fool. When Molly-san told me what you'd been up to, I had to come and beat some sense into you." Nori-chan bent over and attempted to pry me off her leg. "Can't you act like a normal host and offer me something to drink?"  
  
"You want orange soda?"  
  
"Uh. Yeah." I know she didn't -actually- want orange soda. But, she wasn't going to say that she really wanted a beer.   
  
"Okay."  
  
After I brought out the cans, and Molly and Ten scuttled off to go sit with Shuichi, Nori-chan and I sat down on the couches and made ourselves comfy. She had her hair up in one big ponytail on top of her head, and was wearing nothing particularly fascinating, so I don't think Molly picked Noriko up at NG. Which meant that my personal assistant drove all the way to the suburbs to pick up Noriko. I have to remember to thank her later.  
  
"I have Shuichi staying at my house!" I don't know why I told her that first. I just kinda want to tell everyone I see. I felt stupid after saying that, so I picked up a pillow and put it on my lap. I wish Kumagoro was here.  
  
"I know, you idiot." Noriko rolled her eyes and took a big gulp of the soda. "I know all about everything. What the hell do you think you're doing, Ryuichi?"  
  
I felt the left corner of lip twitch. "I'm helping. Helping Shuichi."  
  
Sighing, Noriko reached back to adjust her ponytail. "You know you can't do this, Ryuichi. You're a fucking spazz. We almost had to medicate you when your goddamn goldfish died because you tried to feed it Cheese Puffs when you ran out of fish food."  
  
"I know the difference between Shuichi and a goldfish, na no da."  
  
"You can't keep Shuichi as a pet, Ryuichi. He can't live here. What's going to happen when he does something to accidentally piss you off? What about the media? Have you even given thought one to the kind of scandal this would cause?"  
  
Actually...I hadn't.  
  
"But, Nori-chan," I dig my fingers into the pillow in my lap. "Where else is he supposed to go? Shuichi is my friend. I have to take care of my friends, 'cause you only get a limited number of really good ones. I'd do the same thing if you were in trouble..."  
  
"Yeah, but I'm not an idiot, so I don't get in these kind of situations." Noriko flops backwards onto the couch, as if just talking to me is wearing her out. "Yeah, I know you just want to help. I just don't want to see you get hurt, buddy. I worry about you, okay?"  
  
"You do?"  
  
"Of course I do, you spazz." Noriko closes her eyes. We've been skirting the real issue, and I don't think either of us wants to bring it up. Suddenly, Nori-chan pops up and grabs her oversized purse. "Oh right, I brought you something."  
  
"You did?"  
  
"Uh-huh. Close your eyes."  
  
I close them. Surprises are grand. Ever since that first time Tomi had me close my eyes and eat his ice cream Train Wreck, I've loved close-your-eyes surprises.  
  
"Open!"  
  
About three inches from my nose is a very familiar color of pink. With a very familiar smell and a very familiar stitch running up the middle. This is...  
  
This is...  
  
"KUMAGORO!!!!!!!!!!!"  
  
I grab the dangling bunny and clutch him to my chest. Ahhhhh. This is right. Yes. This is absolutely right. I was so worried, Kumagoro. So worried. I'm so sorry for leaving you behind. I'm so sorry for putting you through that, Kumagoro. Do you forgive me? Are you okay? Oh, Kumagoro, I'm so glad you're back now. Shuichi will be glad, too. Everything's been so bad, Kumagoro. So bad. But, now that you're back, we can put everything right. Right?  
  
"Are you crying, you weird little..."   
  
I look up and stick out my tongue at Noriko. Never try to come between the reunion of a man and his long lost bunny. So, maybe I am crying a little bit. It's happy crying, not sad crying.   
  
I will never, ever, ever leave you behind again, Kumagoro. I promise.  
  
"Thank you so much for saving him and bringing him home, Nori-chan."  
  
"Actually," Noriko says, twisting one finger in some tendrils of escaped hair, "Tohma's the one you should thank. Yuki Eiri found him on the doorstep and almost tossed Kuma-chan in the trash without thinking."  
  
I wiggle in my seat, suddenly very uncomfortable in my own home. I'm going to have to give Kumagoro -two- baths just to get all the associated ick off of him.   
  
"Ryuichi, you're going to have to talk to him sooner or later."  
  
I stare up at the wall. I've got a nice Kandinsky print hanging behind the couch Noriko is sitting on. Yellow with black triangles and red circles. Like looking at a campfire through a cut diamond, I think. But, maybe I'll get a different painting sometime...  
  
"Ryuichi! Pay attention, idiot. Don't go off into fucking daydreaming just because you don't want to deal with Tohma." Noriko reaches over and grabs my chin. Hard. "You two are my best friends. I hate to see you like this."  
  
My blood might be boiling. What is the boiling temperature of blood, I wonder? Through my teeth I reply, "I don't want to see him, Nori. Not ever again. As soon as I can, I'm getting Molly to write up a press release about the breakup of Nittle Grasper and selling off my shares of NG." Am I? Yeah. I guess I am. "I'm sorry. But, if I let Tohma get away with what he's done to Shuichi, if I just ignored everything and forgot about it, Tomi would never forgive me."  
  
Noriko lets go of my chin and shakes her head. "I thought you'd say that."  
  
She stands up, looping her purse over her shoulder. In six swinging steps, she's at the front door. "You're going to stay here," Noriko says, pulling on the doorknob, "Until you two figure something out."  
  
Then she opens the door.  
  
And, pretty as you please, as if he owned the building, as if he wasn't the scum of the fucking earth, as if he hadn't tried to cripple me and Shuichi with malicious words less than 24 hours ago...  
  
Seguchi Tohma walks into my penthouse.  
  
"I'm going across the street to get a beer," Noriko says as she closes the door, "There better not be any blood spilled when I get back."  
  
And then...  
  
I'm alone...  
  
With Tohma.  
  
I lift up Kumagoro and circle my fingers around his neck. Slowly, very slowly, I tighten my grip, all the while keeping my gaze locked on the smirking lips of Shindou Shuichi's personal Judas, showing Tohma exactly what I plan on doing to him if he doesn't turn around and leave my sight this very fucking instant. I will strangle you, Seguchi Tohma. In a heartbeat.  
  
Do. Not. Tempt. Me.  
  
Tohma exhales a quick laugh through his nose. "You love Shuichi that much, Ryuichi? That much? Enough to strangle me?"  
  
I do, Tohma.  
  
I do.  
  
But, I'd never do what you've done. I'd never steal him away from Yuki Eiri. I'd never try to destroy the love in Shuichi's heart just to make him mine.  
  
You see, it's complicated.  
  
Too complicated for you to understand.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
***In Our Next Chapter: The showdown between Tohma and Ryuichi. Will blood be spilled? Will Kumagoro's poor neck be broken? Will Nittle Grasper break up? Will poor Shuichi ever get a fucking break? And what about Ryuichi's ever-growing crush on Shu-chan? Will Tohma explain ANYTHING? I hope you will stay tuned for more Pianissimo Butterfly!  
  
***Author Notes:   
  
I've seen Noriko portrayed in many ways. I hear she has a much bigger part in the manga, but I haven't read very many volumes yet, so you will have to forgive me if she is a bit off.  
  
I recommend downloading Bach's cello suite "Sarabande". It really is a very moving piece.  
  
***Review Notes:  
  
Thank you to everyone who reviewed. Sorry this chapter took so long. I was sick over the weekend, and then I had Jury Duty. I'm hoping there should only be about two more chapters to go before the end.  
  
So, sweet cello symphonies of thanks to:  
  
bergfjel, brassmonkey2079, random stalker, New Orleans, Fire Dragon of Darkness, Nocturne's Requiem, animegirl12182, A, and kitty-nickle.  
  
hopemia: Aaaaahhh. Everyone wants Tohma and Yuki dead. It isn't so bad as that, I promise! Or......is it?  
  
Aibyouka: You know what it is? Tell me! Hehehehe.  
  
The Demonic Duo: Tohma's not so evil in this chapter, don't you think?  
  
Rabid Bat: Tohma's not so bad, really. I promise!  
  
Yma: Thank you so much for reading. :D Yes. I write a lot of Rurouni Kenshin stories, but I also have an Inuyasha story called "Paper Dragons", which you might like, if you have seen that series. It was one of my first fics, though, so the prose isn't as good.   
  
xpyne!: I always had a bizarre feeling that somehow Tohma engineered the whole Yuki murdering his tutor thing. Things -definitely- shouldn't be adding up. You're right about that. Well, there was a little bit of Hiro in this chapter, but not a lot. Instead I had Noriko come slap some sense into Ryuichi. I hope that works, instead.  
  
hidesfaerie: :D Well, thank you again! And why DOES Yuki call Shuichi and yet end up in bed with Tohma? Mysteries, mysteries.  
  
pinksakuya: Didn't expect them from Yuki? Yeah. I actually feel really sorry for Yuki. He's really going through way more hell than Shuichi.  
  
CPV-Phantoms-CTFA: Chuckle! Your review made me laugh so hard. Thanks!  
  
Wakaba-sama: Woohoo! Well, maybe not ice cream. Maybe...POPSICLES! Yeah. Mmmmmmmmm. Chocolate popsicles. *drool*  
  
Bisexual Pygmy: They're all sympathetic characters, really. I like them all.  
  
Veleda: Very good reasons? Mmmmmm. Isn't sex a good enough reason? *duck* No. I can't tell you, seriously. I'm hoping we'll get to Yuki's "motivations" in the next chapter. Yeah, I think so.  
  
noali: Of course Yuki loves Shuichi. Doesn't he? Or -does- he? *wicked eyebrow waggle* No, I haven't finished writing the story. It's only written in my head, and it takes a while to type it out. Sorry to disappoint.  
  
Ranger: I swear it will make sense soon. Hang with me for just one or two more chapters?  
  
Kuria-Dragon-goddess: Ahhhhh. No Tohmadeath. Because where would Ryuichi hide the body? Probably in his closet, and it would stink up all his clothes and stuff.  
  
fujifunmum: Hahahaha. He just found the tire iron somewhere, I guess. I didn't think about that because theres always tire irons laying around my house. (Family member is a mechanic.) Doh! And, you can have Molly if I can have Ten. I need someone to punch people for me and carry the bodies. 


	6. Down The Rabbit Hole

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 6: Down The Rabbit Hole  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"How is he?"  
  
Blue. The skies were blue that day we had the picnic, weren't they, Tomi? God, I'd never seen that kind of blue before. It was unnatural. It's completely unnatural to be so happy. I should have known it. I should have known all along.  
  
"Not good. He lost a lot of blood. He shouldn't... He shouldn't even be alive."  
  
I should have known that I didn't deserve you, Tomi. It must be my fault. It must all somehow be my fault. I've been bad, that must be it. I must have done something wrong. Did I do something wrong, Tomi? Is that why you got sick?  
  
"That idiot." Footsteps on tile echo into nothingness. "Come on, Tohma-kun. Let's go. You've already been here too long. Mika is worried."  
  
A thump reverberates in air. "I don't get it. Tomi was just an ordinary guy. There wasn't anything special about him at all."  
  
I wish we could go back to that picnic in the forest. Remember? We made a kite, but we never flew it. We just spent the whole time wrapped up in those blankets, watching the clouds make love to the sky as we mimicked them on the earth below. You wouldn't forget the picnic, would you, Tomi?  
  
"Maybe..." Quietly, quietly, the voice comes. Like butterflies, pianissimo butterflies. "Maybe Tomi didn't deserve Ryuichi. But, how can anyone turn away when offered love so sweet and good? Men have made pacts with the devil for less."  
  
A choked laugh. "But not you, hm?"  
  
"No. Love is a disease, and I'm fortunately immune."  
  
"Eiri-kun..."  
  
You wouldn't forget, would you Tomi? Don't forget me. Please don't forget me. I'm trying my hardest to get to where you are, so please wait. Wait just a little bit longer.  
  
Wait for me, Tomi.  
  
Please.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"No wonder your fans go crazy for you. You're quite sexy when you're angry, Ryuichi."  
  
Kumagoro squeaks something almost inaudible. Oh crap. Sorry Kuma-chan. I pry my fingers apart and let Kumagoro catch his breath on my lap. He's cursing at me, Kumagoro is. Not even home for five minutes, and already I'm trying to get him killed.  
  
"Say whatever it is you've come here to say," I manage between grit teeth, "Then leave."  
  
I am immobile and strong. I am like a tank. Nothing you say will hurt me, Tohma. I will not let you hurt me, and I definitely will not let you hurt Shuichi. You are so far below me right now, that I might mistake you for a cockroach and accidentally step on you.   
  
Tohma smirks, and slowly, as if he's planning on staying a while, takes off his hat and jacket. Underneath, he's got one of his patent vests on over a bright yellow shirt. Strange style, I suppose, but it suits him. Wait. Yellow is one of Shuichi's colors. That better not be...  
  
No, Shuichi wouldn't wear a shirt that dressy.  
  
Or would he?  
  
While I am pondering whether Tohma has decided to steal Shuichi's -clothes- on top of everything else, my ex-friend swiftly lays his things over the arm of a nearby chair and sits down next to me on the couch.  
  
Ick. I scoot away from him without even thinking, curling my knees up to my chest as I press myself into the side of the couch. I stare into the light of the lamp on the nearby table, trying not to look at him. I don't want to look at him, because if I do, I might start to trust him.  
  
"Ryuichi, come on, it's just me. Aren't we friends? Haven't we been friends for a long time? Weren't we always together through the best and worst times, ever since we met? Wasn't I there for you when Tomi died? Didn't you stand next to me when I got married? And now you're afraid to even sit on the same couch as me? I'm not really as bad as -that- in your eyes, am I?"  
  
"I don't trust you anymore, Tohma. I don't think that you are the person I thought you were."  
  
Behind me, Tohma's releases a short, exasperated sigh, "Your loyalty to me is staggering, Ryuichi, just staggering. Of all people, I thought you'd be the last to turn against me." I hear Tohma rooting around, and then a short metallic "flick" noise. "You and Shuichi are such trouble. You both just don't give a damn who you hurt."  
  
"And you do?" I flop over in my seat, turning to look at Tohma, and give him my very best death glare. The two-inch blade in his right hand makes me eyes widen for a moment, until I realize it is just his nail file. Tohma's meticulous about his nails. I'd always thought it was one of his more endearing habits, but now I figure he just wants to keep them sharp enough to claw out my heart in one clean swipe.  
  
"Hurt people? Ryuichi, who was there for you after Tomi died? Wasn't I the one who pulled you out of that bathtub? Didn't I take you to the hospital? Who sat by your side the entire time? Who came to visit you when you were in detox? I've been taking care of you for years, Ryuichi. Years. Because you are my -best- friend, and friends are supposed to -be- there for each other. I'm hurt, Ryuichi. I'm hurt by the way you are treating me."  
  
"Guess it's a mutual kind of hurting," I reply, pushing my face into the back of Kumagoro's head. I would very much like to crawl into a dark hole right now, a deep dark rabbit hole where I could hide for about a zillion years until I figure this all out, or it goes away, whichever comes first. Tohma's right. I do owe him my life. I'm such a shit. If I were a good friend, I would have... I should be able to...do...something. No. No. Think of Shuichi. Think of Shuichi. Unforgivable. Completely unforgivable. "You have Yuki Eiri. You don't need me."  
  
"What about the band, Ryuichi? Can you live without singing?"  
  
"I hate to tell you this, Tohma, but I can sing perfectly fine without you."   
  
"That's cruel, Ryu," Tohma says, shaking his head. He looks down at his fingers and starts filing away, quickly moving the metal back and forth, eliciting a grating noise that sends a shiver down my spine. "I hate it when you get this way. I don't blame you, though. I blame Tomi. You were never mean spirited until..."  
  
"Stop. Talking. About. Tomi."  
  
The incessant fingernail-filing stops for a moment, as Tohma squints at me, his lips pursed. I'm half afraid that he's going to jump me and start punching me in the face repeatedly. I don't know why I would think that. Tohma's never hit me before. "No, Ryuichi, no. Let's -start- talking about Tomi. Because, that's what this is really all about, isn't it? Do you even -understand- what happened to you? We didn't tell you because we didn't want you to be worried. But, you were -dead-, Ryuichi. Do you understand that? For three and a half minutes, you were -dead-. Do you know why we didn't let you look at a mirror for two months? Why they kept you under sedation for most of that time? You have NO IDEA how close you came to death. You have no idea what you put me through. And now, with this boy, with Shuichi, I see the same events unfolding..."   
  
"This isn't about me and Shuichi! Quit twisting things around!" Restrain me, Kumagoro. Hold me back. Because if you don't, bad things are going to happen. "This is about you and Yuki Eiri! Does Mika-san know what's going on? How about I call her and tell her..."  
  
"My wife is aware of the situation. She's been highly encouraging."  
  
My jaw drops. No. Not Mika-san, too. Is the whole world insane? That must be it. When I am the sanest person in this conundrum, something is -broken-. "What is -wrong- with you, Tohma? Are you on drugs?"  
  
"I'm not the one who self-medicates, Ryuichi. That's your dominion." Tohma flounces his blonde hair as he returns to filing his nails, obviously proud of himself for the dig. "I wonder. Are you teaching that to Shuichi, too? I mean, if you're trying to mold him and shape him into the perfect reflection of yourself, I'd assume you're teaching him all your best forms of escapism. Or, did you skip the pills and booze and go straight for the sex?"  
  
"Tohma...I'm warning you..."  
  
"Hm? How about it, Ryu, does that boy make you moan loud enough that you forget Tomi's face? Or, do you just close your eyes pretend Shuichi's writhing body belongs to your dead lover?"  
  
I...I can't help it. My brain just shuts down. My vision goes completely red, like looking through one side of a pair of old-time 3D glasses. All I see is Tohma recoiling as my hand connects with his face. I don't even feel it.   
  
I slap him.  
  
I didn't mean to, really. Kumagoro, you know that I didn't mean to, right?   
  
Oh, god, Tohma, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. Why do I have to hurt everyone all the time? I don't want to be like that, I really don't. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.  
  
Tohma rubs his cheek gingerly with the back of his right hand. His other one curls around the file, fisting the metal object almost painfully. Without moving, Tohma's eyes liquidly shift from peering at his lap to staring at me. Those orbs of blue-green cruelty immediately soften, the anger melting into concern. Is he sincere? I can't tell. I've never had to worry about trying to read Tohma before. I've always just trusted him.  
  
"It's alright, Ryuichi, I'm alright. You didn't hurt me, see?" Tohma tilts his cheek towards me a bit. A red mark is rapidly blossoming right below his eye.   
  
What if I was wearing my rings? What if I was holding something? I could have hurt him. I could have really hurt him.  
  
I wanted to...hurt him.  
  
"Hey," I feel a warmth on my knee. Tohma's hand. "Hey, it's okay. Don't cry. I deserved that one. You didn't do anything wrong, Ryuichi." I'm tempted to move my knee away from his hand, but before I do, the warmth is gone. Such forgiveness, and such worry in Tohma's expression. I don't think I've ever seen it before. "I know you, Ryu. I know how much passion resides in your soul. How you want to love the entire world, and how much it pains you to see the people you love hurt. You can't help it, you can't help being you. But, don't you see, Ryuichi, I've accepted you for who you are. I'm going to be the one who always forgives you, because I'm strong enough to take you, good or bad, happy or angry. Shuichi is not like that. He's young, and fickle. Do you think he'll forgive you and accept you like I can?"  
  
I really don't feel good. I have to keep my jaw clenched to just to keep my teeth from chattering. It suddenly seems so cold in here, like that time Kuma-chan and I got stuck in Hokkaido without a coat. I wrap my arms around myself, hugging Kumagoro to my chest. Where is the warmth? Someone stuck a straw in my eye-sockets and sucked it all out, I think, because my eyes are the only part of me which doesn't feel frozen..  
  
"Why did this all have to happen, Tohma? Why can't things just stay...stay the same? Why do people have to hurt each other?"  
  
"Situations change," he replies, staring into space, "Things happen, Ryuichi. You should know better than anyone else. Sometimes there isn't anything you can do."  
  
"You're wrong. There's always something you can do. If you try hard enough, there's always...always...some way to fix things. You can always fix things if you have enough love. If you love things enough, you can..."   
  
"That's enough, Ryuichi." Tohma stands up and walks across the room. With his back to me, he continues, "That's enough. There was no way you could have saved Tomi and..." A beleaguered sigh rips the air, full of such torment that I flinch, "It's better for Eiri-kun this way. And for Shuichi, too."  
  
"But, you don't know what this is doing to Shuichi!"  
  
"Frankly, I can't say I really care. He'll survive."  
  
"Tohma!" Now, I am standing, too. Though, my knees feel so weak that I keep one hand on the arm of the couch, just to stay perpendicular. "Stop all this. Please. I'm begging you. You're right, and I'm wrong. You're right that it's too complicated, and I'm stupid and I shouldn't have gotten involved. You're right, just like always. Whatever you want. Whatever you want me to say, I'll say it. I just...I can't take this. Please make it all stop. Please, Tohma. Make it stop."  
  
"I can't. I'm sorry, Ryuichi."  
  
"Can't or won't?"  
  
"Yes. I suppose that's true. I won't." Tohma turns on his heel and heads towards the chair where his hat and jacket are laying. "I've had my lawyers put a restraining order on both you and Shuichi. Neither of you are to come within 100 meters of Yuki Eiri. Eiri-kun agrees with this, and has signed the papers, as well."  
  
"You didn't! You wouldn't!"  
  
Tohma shakes his head a bit, refusing to look at me as he picks up his jacket and slides his arms into the sleeves. "Bad Luck's contract has a transfer clause. In two months, they'll be moved to our new American studio in Los Angeles. It's a big opportunity for them..."  
  
"Bullshit, Tohma, you just want..."  
  
"You can tell Shindou-san that there will be no more phone calls from Eiri-kun. I've put a stop to that, too." Tohma places his hat atop his nest of blonde hair and turns to look at me. His eyes are like steel, like the very same shiny knife I used to slit my own wrists all those years ago. "As for you, Ryuichi, you can come and tear up the Nittle Grasper contract with your own hands, if you want. It's in my office, in the top drawer of my desk. I won't stop you. But, know this...if you do destroy that paper, I'm going to consider it the end of our friendship."  
  
"With friends like you, Seguchi-san, who really needs enemies?" My head practically rips off my neck as I turn to look at the owner of that voice. So sonorous, yet edged with razor blades. Just like a vodka screwdriver, barely smooth enough to cover the acrid alcohol. That voice...  
  
I think my heart has stopped.  
  
Shuichi.  
  
How long has he been standing there?  
  
Shuichi leans against the doorframe leading to the hallway. For once, he doesn't look frail, or scared, or sad. He just looks pissed. His nails dig into the wood of the sconces, and I know he's trying his best to restrain himself from leaping across the room and attempting to slam Tohma's head into the wall. This makes me quite glad that I'm sitting, relatively, between the two, just in case Kumagoro and I have to stop Shuichi.  
  
I don't think I've ever seen Shuichi mad before.  
  
Hm. I wonder if that's what I look like when I get angry.  
  
"Leave my friend alone, you fucking home-wrecker. You don't even deserve to breathe the same air as someone as kind and giving as Ryuichi. I don't know what you did to Yuki, but I sure as hell am not going to let you get to Ryuichi, too. And I...I...Is that my shirt?"  
  
Huh?  
  
Shuichi raises one accusing finger and points at Tohma. "You're wearing my shirt. My favorite shirt."  
  
Tohma looks down at the bright yellow peeking out from underneath his jacket and vest. "You're mistaken, Shindou-san. This shirt had the tags still on it when I put it on this morning."  
  
"That's my favorite shirt!" Uh oh. "That's the shirt Yuki gave me!" I'm running across the room at top speed, Kumagoro behind me due to the fact that his legs are shorter. "I WAS WAITING FOR A SPECIAL OCCASION TO WEAR IT!"  
  
I don't know how, but I keep Shuichi from advancing. By this time, due to Shuichi's yelling, Ten has appeared in the doorway. With one massive push, I send Shuichi reeling backward into my bodyguard's grasp.  
  
I really don't need Shuichi to go to jail for assault.  
  
Ten drags Shuichi, who continues to yell some rather un-Shuichi-like things, back down the hallway while I try to catch my breath.  
  
We need a vacation, Kumagoro. We need a vacation from emotion.  
  
Finally, I turn around. Tohma remains motionless, like one third of those life-sized cardboard Nittle Grasper stand-ups fans buy to keep in their bedrooms.  
  
"Please leave, Tohma."  
  
"Yeah," he replies, heading for the door. "You know, you constantly surprise me, Ryuichi. That's what I've always liked best about you." He grabs the doorknob, but before he leaves, he looks back over his shoulder one more time. And then, just then, he's not my enemy, or someone who is trying to destroy my life, or Shuichi's life. For just a second, he's just Tohma. The same one I've always trusted. Trusted with my life. "Try not to get into any more fights with cars, okay? And take care of the cuts on your arm. I know how you forget to look after yourself."  
  
Then, Tohma is gone.  
  
After that, Kumagoro looks at me and says he needs a stiff drink.  
  
And me?  
  
I need about a dozen.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I was a perfectly average little boy. In the suburbs of Yokohama, I'd spend my winters making snowmen and my summers playing in the sprinklers. The teachers said I had a learning disability, but it was mild enough that they didn't have to send me to a special school. My parents are good people, who work hard at their travel agent business, and probably would have been happy for me if I spent my entire life working at the Softy Tasty, just as happy as they are that I'm a rock star.   
  
How, exactly, did I get from the mundane suburbs of Yokohama to the penthouse suite of the Osakaji International?   
  
Over and over, I keep thinking "Where did I go wrong?" I feel a lot like Kuma-chan's cousin 'Bugs Bunny'. I must have taken a wrong turn at Albuquerque, and not have even noticed.  
  
And I just can't think of anything that I could have done differently. So, the only thing I can come up with is...  
  
I'm not living my own life. Someone else was supposed to be Sakuma Ryuichi.   
  
When they were handing out souls, I stole someone's place in line. And I'm being punished for it.  
  
Kuma-chan, what are we going to do?  
  
I rest my head against something. I think it is a boot, as it smells of thick leather and dirt. Too dark to tell, really. It doesn't make a good pillow, so I adjust my head until my cheek is against the ground. I need to get further down. I need to go down into a hole.  
  
A rabbit hole, don't you think, Kumagoro? I can't tell. Are we already through the looking glass? Or are we back on the other side? Which is the real world, and which is the fake one?   
  
As long as we stay in the dark, in here in the closet, we don't have to figure it out. Just pretend the world is disappearing, Kumagoro. We'll go back to the beginning, to the place where they handed out souls. I'll give mine back and apologize.   
  
I want to start again.  
  
Kumagoro reaches up and pulls several shirts off of their hangers, letting them fall on top of us, until we're covered in a pile of designer cloth. It has to be darker. It has to be dark enough...that I disappear.  
  
"Back to the beginning, start again, do over..."   
  
Kuma-chan rubs his face into my neck and picks up the tune of Tomi's stupid "do over" song. He'd always sing it when we got drunk and silly while playing board games, because we were always knocking the pieces out of place. "When you mess up the game, do over, do over. These things happen, do over, do over...."  
  
Laying in the closet, blanketed in my own dry cleaning, I sing with Kumagoro. Songs will never leave me. And Kumagoro would never leave me, not on purpose. But humans...  
  
Humans always go.  
  
Suddenly, light hits me, shattered into a rainbow of hues through the delicate fabrics swathing my face. Blue is for sky and for Tomi's eyes. Pink is for Shuichi and strawberry Pocky and Kumagoro. Green is for picnics and for...  
  
Vegetables? Ick. No wonder I don't like green.  
  
Through the cloth, I can see the silhouette of a small person in the doorway. Quietly, he steps inside and pulls the door closed. In such a confined space, there's nowhere else for Shuichi's scent to go. Laced with the leather of my boots, and the deodorizer that Molly uses on the carpet, the perfume of Shuichi's essence tickles my nose. It's delicately soapy, but with traces of burning sandalwood and white chocolate. I've been to elite confectionery boutiques that don't smell this exotic. The overwhelming power of it makes me swallow hard in an attempt to keep from whimpering.  
  
It strikes me that even Tomi never smelled this good. Or did he? I try to remember. What was it? Oranges and old books. Is that right?  
  
I don't remember.  
  
"Hey," Shuichi's voice says in the darkness, "You alright?"  
  
"Yeah." I reach up to pull the fabric off my face. It drags across my skin, leaving tingly trails where numbness had begun to take root. As I push it off to the side, I can tell that my hair is a mess, even without any light. Strands are pulled in wrong directions, leaving my scalp feeling almost like I've just walked through a wind tunnel.  
  
"Tohma..." Shuichi stops himself, and there's a brief burst of breeze as he plops down on the ground next to me. "Was he mean to you?"  
  
"I slapped him."  
  
"That's funny. I mean, I guess I shouldn't think it is funny, but I do. He probably deserved more than that."  
  
Funny? It's not like Shuichi to laugh at someone else's pain. It makes me sad.  
  
Three days ago, I don't think he would have found it amusing.  
  
I guess I don't say anything for a while, because Shuichi says, "I'm sorry. Because of me, you and your friend are fighting. I guess it is true what Yuki always says, that I'm selfish..."  
  
"Shellfish?"  
  
Shuichi laughs, or giggles, rather. He sounds just like a girl when he's delighted, which makes me want to squirm, because it only brings to mind how, very definitely, Shuichi is a boy.   
  
"You can't crack jokes at a time like this, Ryu-chan!" Shuichi whines teasingly.  
  
"You're the one who brought up the crustaceans, na no da. I mean, really, with all of our problems, do you have to drag the lobsters into it, as well? Think of the crabs. Poor things, always having to walk sideways... Do they really need our issues, too? Yes, let's definitely leave the crabs out of it."  
  
"Yeah, but crabs have shells, at least." I can just very barely make out his form, sitting slouched in the middle of the closet, only a foot or two from where I am laying. A thin line of light from where the door isn't all the way seated in the frame cuts diagonally across the tiny room, ending in the pinkness of Shuichi's hair. Like a shiny pink dot in the abyss. The last sparkle before light gives way to oblivion.  
  
"Do you think there are crabs in here, Kumagoro?," Shuichi asks my plush friend. "I bet...there are!"   
  
Something bites me just below my ribcage, HARD! Yelping, I roll to the side, away from the offending creature. Owie! In the disorienting blackness, it takes me a few seconds to realize what happened.  
  
Shuichi pinched me!  
  
He's tittering so hard I can feel the vibrations through the floor. In between little hiccoughs of laughter, he manages to exclaim "Crab attack!"   
  
After that, I become the victim of a beach adventure gone wrong. Relentlessly, Shuichi attacks me with his makeshift pincers, as Kumagoro and I thrash and try to get away. Except, we don't really want to get away, because we're laughing so hard, and it's fun, na no da. My lungs fill up with so much air that the oxygen goes to my brain, making me giddy beyond belief.   
  
"Ow ow ow! Save me, Kuma...OW! Shuuuuu....ow!"  
  
"This is what you get for making jokes!"  
  
Kumagoro tries to attack back, but unfortunately, his paws don't readily become effective crab claws.   
  
So, what do I do?   
  
Well, of course, I do the stupidest thing possible.  
  
Shuichi has me cornered, up against the wall. I'm in a half-crouched position, my left foot underneath me. I push forward rapidly, blindly grabbing at Shu's shoulder, my head barreling into his chest. This takes Shuichi by surprise, and causes him to topple over backwards, his arms flying out to catch ahold of whatever he can to prevent his fall. Unfortunately, the only thing he gets is a pair of pants which slides easily off the hanger.  
  
This leaves me...  
  
Falling forward...  
  
Onto Shuichi.  
  
I have him pinned to the floor underneath me, and the only thing which keeps me from feeling the full expanse of his chest is that fact that, somehow, Kumagoro's become trapped between us. I feel hip bones against my knees as I loom over him, suddenly very aware of the compromising situation I've put myself in.  
  
After a second, Shuichi continues to try to poke, pinch, and tickle me, continuing the game apparently unaware that I'm not laughing anymore. He wiggles beneath me, trying to find my most sensitive spots, fervently attempting to get me to react. His body brushes against mine, over and over, criminally tempting me to...do...things...I shouldn't.  
  
And then the thought hits me, terrifying and titillating me at the same time.   
  
Ravish him.  
  
Ravish him now. Take him now. Here in the dark, where I can't see his doubt, where I can ignore his tears, where we can pretend we're in a different world, a different time. He'll let me, I know it. He wants to forget the pain as much as I do. I'll give Shuichi something pretty, something trembling and exquisite. Like a note, a note that pierces the air and goes on and on, defying logic, shattering all music.  
  
What does it matter that when the time comes...we'll both be screaming someone else's name?  
  
I'm so vile. I disgust myself.  
  
Why does Tohma have to be right about -this-?  
  
With a clumsy motion, I slide my hands down Shuichi's arms and catch his wrists. Shuichi seems confused, and lifts his head off the ground a bit, bumping his mop of hair into my chin.  
  
"Stop, Shuichi. Please stop that."  
  
My voice sounds scary, even to me.  
  
"Huh? Um. Okay..." I release Shuichi's birdlike wrists and allow him freedom of movement once again. "Sorry, did I pinch too hard?"  
  
Now is the time for a well-placed lie. "Yeah."   
  
As if. Shuichi could probably rake his fingernails down my back and tear my skin into deep furrows of blood and gore, and I'd enjoy it.  
  
"Ack! I'm so sorry, Ryu-chan! I get carried away with playing sometimes. I was just trying to, you know, cheer you up."  
  
"It's okay, na no da!" The way I say it, it sounds so natural, like I'm not as tormented as a penniless kid in a candy shop. Gathering my mental strength, I push myself off of Shuichi and end up laying beside him. Our shoulders touch as we both stare at a ceiling we can not see. "Hey Shu," I say, turning to try to make out his face. "Are you...okay? I mean, about seeing Tohma?"  
  
"Yeah. I guess I am now. I think I punched Ten-san, though."  
  
"He probably didn't notice, na no da. He was a stunt man when he was younger, I think. Jumping off buildings and stuff. A Shu-chan punch to Ten was probably like a Shu-chan crab attack to me."  
  
"He's a nice guy," Shuichi says, his voice thoughtful and mildly distant. "Kinda weird, but nice. It's great that you have people that care about you so much."  
  
"Ah, don't think like that, Shu. Hiroshi-kun cares, and K, and probably even that Fujisaki kid, even if he does complain a lot." I bite my bottom lip a bit, hesitating. I feel just like I did during the seconds in front of the Softy Tasty, before I asked Tomi back to my place. Heart beating rapidly, mouth dry. Ten years younger and infinitely uncertain. "Kumagoro cares. And Ryu...I...I care."  
  
A feather-light stroke in the center of my palm causes my hand to twitch reflexively. Shuichi's fingers slip between mine. They're the perfect temperature, not hot, not cold. As mild as pool water that's been sitting out in a summer day. Although I expect him just to give my hand a squeeze and then pull away, he doesn't. Instead, he seems unable to be still, running his thumb down my own, sweeping across the thick pad of my palm, grazing his fingernail against the delicate skin of my wrist.   
  
I suddenly get the idea that Shuichi has to touch things, has to explore them with his hands, to make sure that they are real. Maybe this is what makes him such a good hugger. He's hugging you to let you know that he is real, and to reassure himself that you're really there, too.  
  
Shuichi continues to play with my hand, sliding our fingers apart and then back together again, etching ghost-words into my flesh with his fingertip, tickling the sensitive U-shaped divot between my pinky and ringfinger. It drives me crazy, this veil of innocence over a pool of lust, this gnawing need that just won't give up hope.  
  
I didn't know, until now, that people could make love to each other just by holding hands.  
  
Did you, Kumagoro?  
  
I thought I knew everything about physical pleasure. It comes with the 'Troubled Rock-star Handbook'. Apparently I was...  
  
...Oh god Shuichi, that feels nice...  
  
I was wrong.  
  
"Why the closet?"  
  
Huh?  
  
"Why'd you come hide in the closet?"  
  
Why -did- I come in here, in the first place? "I don't remember, na no da. Must have been Kumagoro's idea. He thinks this is his room."  
  
Shuichi makes a lilting "Hm" sound in the back of his throat, and says, "Sometimes I used to sleep in Yuki's closet, when he'd go on book signing tours. He'd tell me not to use his bed so..."  
  
"And it smelled like him. In the closet."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
I'm so close to him now, I'm sure that Shuichi can feel my breath on his chin. "It was a pretty shirt. Birthday present?"  
  
"Anniversary."  
  
"Oh." What sort of stick-in-the-mud gets his lover something as unromantic as a shirt for their anniversary? And what sort of COMPLETE ASSHOLE then turns around and gives that shirt to his -new- lover? Ugh. Mean thoughts, Ryu, mean. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't worry about it. I've decided not to. Yuki's obviously made...a choice...and I'm not it."  
  
The mention of Yuki Eiri breaks me from my fantasy world, reminding me of Tohma's visit. It's probably going to kill me, but I have to tell him about what Tohma said. "Shuichi, about Yuki-san... Tohma said that... There's this restrainy legal thing that I don't understand and also about the phone calls..."  
  
-Now- Shuichi squeezes my hand. He's really got a good grip, and I'm glad. I'm glad he's holding me in place so I don't fall away into bits. "It's okay. You don't have to tell me. Molly-san already explained everything, about the restraining order, the phone calls, and about Bad Luck's contract being transferred to America."  
  
"I don't like it, Shu, but I don't know what we can do."  
  
Shuichi sighs and turns over on his side. I can see his eyes, glinting faintly in the wan light, only inches from my own. "Sing with me?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Sing with me, a bit? Here in the closet? Because...because I want to feel normal. Singing makes me feel normal."  
  
I nod in the darkness, trying to think of a decent song that isn't too sad or wasn't written by or for Yuki Eiri. But, before I come up with one, Shuichi starts with a single word:  
  
"Sayonara..."  
  
It's Gackt's song of the same title, off of his "Rebirth" album. It's a pretty good CD, altogether, one of my favorites.  
  
But, it's so...  
  
Sad.  
  
"Sayonara..." I repeat, my voice edged and cutting in contrast to the wispy clouds of sound that dance from Shuichi's lips, "Sayonara, dear person whom I loved. Fallen tears turn to snow..."  
  
"Sayonara...I, who cried until yesterday. I quietly close my eyes," Shuichi adds, his notes tearing at my heart.  
  
"Nonchalantly extending my shoulder, I leaned towards the window, with a slightly embarrassed manner, I smiled. I was always watching...you, who gently kissed my cheek, and walked away."  
  
I expect Shuichi to pick up the next verse, but he doesn't. Instead, he whispers timidly, "Will you stay next to me again tonight?"  
  
What am I supposed to say?   
  
I don't want to, but only because I really, really want to?  
  
Further down the rabbit hole, digging my own destruction, sliding towards the Wonderland I crave, the Wonderland that will turn on me in the end, I go. Following the white rabbit, or in this case pink and blue, chasing after him, barely glimpsing his back before he runs away again. The Queen of Hearts, she is so cruel. Why must she always destroy everything in her path?  
  
So I smile, hiding the truth as aptly as the Cheshire Cat.  
  
"Yes. As long as you want, Shuichi. As long as you want."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
***In The Next Chapters: A dark alley, Yuki Eiri, a baseball bat aimed at Ryuichi's head. Retribution. Shuichi's smile. The end of friendships. An odd encounter blossoms into both hope and sadness. The things we can not change...and the things which end up changing us.  
  
***Author Notes:   
  
Not much to say about this chapter. I only got about halfway through the plot aspects I was hoping to. So, I have to revise my projected chapter estimation. 2 more? 3 more?  
  
Some people commented on Ryuichi not acting as "crazy" as he did in the first few chapters. No, I don't think he would. Not only is Shuichi helping him keep focused, but I think many of the layers of just -oddness- that Ryuichi has built up through the years are falling away, by necessity, in order to help him interact with the situation.   
  
***Review Notes:  
  
Lots of reviews for the last chapter! I hope you don't mind, but it is very late, so I am going to try and post this tonight without the review replies. I'll update the chapter again tomorrow with them. Immense apologies. As always, I appreciate all your comments ever-so-much, and look forward to hearing what you think about the story. :D 


	7. The Affairs of Butterflies

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 7: The Affairs of Butterflies  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
This is the part of the dream where I am sitting in the park on a bench with a life-sized version of Kumagoro. We're feeding the birds, or rather, I'm feeding them and Kumagoro is talking to them in bird-language. How Kuma-chan learned that, I don't know, but it doesn't seem to matter much, because this is a dream.  
  
"In bird language, the word for 'goodbye' is also the word for 'hello'," Kumagoro says, leaning his head on his paw. "For when you leave the flock, you greet the world."  
  
"Is that so?" I ask, popping a sucker into my mouth and swishing it around until the grape flavor coats my tongue. "How'd the birds get so smart?"  
  
"Hmmm? Because of the butterflies."   
  
"Butterflies?"  
  
Kumagoro nods fervently, his dangling ears flopping up and down, "The birds didn't know anything about the world before the butterflies came. Nope, they just stayed up in the sky, way above everything, too grand to notice the world below. But, then, one day, a crow fell in love with a monarch butterfly who tried to soar too high. The crow tried to go down to follow the butterfly, but the wind from the blackbird's wings disturbed the lighter creature, causing him to be unable to fly. So the crow did the only thing he could. He went down to the earth below and landed, quite a heresy where his kind was concerned."  
  
"Really?" I ask, pulling my lollipop out of my mouth.  
  
"Of course, would I lie to you? Well, after that, the butterfly landed right on the back of the crow. Right on his back, you know? And for his sacrifice of coming out of the sky, the butterfly leaned forward and told the crow all of the best secrets of the world."  
  
"What did he say?"  
  
Kumagoro shrugs, "I don't know. I wasn't there." My plush friend must notice my dismay at the ending of his story, because he smirks and adds, "But the story doesn't end there."  
  
"Oh," I bounce excitedly, throwing my arms around Kuma-chan, "Do they live happily ever after, the crow and the butterfly?"  
  
"No," Kumagoro whispers, looking up at the sky, his soft paws stroking my head, "The butterfly told the crow that he knew one more secret. Just one more. The crow, entranced, begged and pleaded, even demanded to know, but the butterfly would not tell him. They had a heated argument, and at the climax, the crow swooped down and caught the butterfly in his mouth."  
  
I try to push myself away from Kumagoro, try to pull his arms off of me, try to find air, but I can't. A sudden panic fills me. This is wrong. Something is wrong here. "No, Ryu-chan," he says, "You have to hear the end of the story."  
  
"I don't want to. I don't like this story anymore, Kumagoro. Let me go."  
  
I'm being pulled tighter and tighter into Kumagoro's crushing embrace. I can't move. I can't breathe.   
  
"And as the crow went to swallow the butterfly, he heard those soft wings beat against the inside of his throat, that precious head sigh and say these last words: 'The last secret was...that I knew our love would end badly from the start. Nonetheless, knowing this, I landed on your back and gave you all I had to give. But, it wasn't enough. I was never enough for you...from the very beginning.'"  
  
No.  
  
No, the story can't end that way. That's not the ending that I want. It's not fair. With my fists, I beat Kumagoro, over and over, trying to escape, trying to...  
  
Suddenly, I'm alone. I'm laying on the bench, the world sideways in my view. The park glitters with greens and golds, with ever-changing patterns of light and dark holding a forbidden dance with one another. I sit up slowly, running my fingers along the wood as I pull myself upright, breathing in the smell of sunlight upon leaves.   
  
And then I see him, standing in the distance, watching me. Atop a small hill of grass, Yuki Eiri's black trenchcoat sways softly in the breeze. He takes off his sunglasses and peers at me, trapping me, looking through me. My blood turns into ice slushy, little flakes getting caught in my veins.   
  
"Do you know what eventually happened to the crow?" Kumagoro's voice asks from nowhere. "You know, don't you, Ryuichi... Tell me what happens to the crow after he shares the secrets of the butterflies with the other birds."  
  
I catch a glimpse of some movement out of the corner of my eye. Turning quickly, I watch as thousands of butterflies flood the park. A thousand colors, shaking, flapping, creating a fierce noise just by their movement. It is a swarm, and they are all heading for Yuki Eiri.  
  
"Yuki-san!" I yell, jumping up, "Run, Yuki-san, you have to run! The butterflies..."  
  
"What happens to the crow, Ryuichi?"  
  
"RUN!!!!" Why won't he run? Why is he just standing there, looking at me, like I...like I...can...  
  
"Tell me what happens. You know how this story ends."  
  
I try to close my eyes, but I am unable to do so. I know. I already know what the crow does, I don't need to see it.  
  
This is the only way he can redeem himself. This is the only way he can apologize. He can't bear to see the butterflies weep for their lost brother. He can't stand it, because they all look just like the love he swallowed whole.  
  
The crow comes back and allows the butterflies to kill him.  
  
As the butterflies descend on Yuki Eiri, a cloud of silken wings obscuring him from view, I scream.   
  
I should have known this would end badly from the beginning.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Do you really have to go?" Shuichi asks with a pout. He's kneeling on the foot of my bed, Kumagoro clutched to his naked chest. His green pajama pants are falling down a bit at his left hip, exposing a rather tantalizing plane of flesh. Not that the whole world hasn't seen the hollow of that hip in posters and video. "Do you really?"  
  
"Yeah," I say, giving Shuichi a squinty wink, "But it's only for a little while. I'll be back right after. And Ten says we can go have a picnic in the park, na no da." While this does sound fun, images from the previous night's dream flicker into my mind. But, I don't let Shuichi know about that. It would probably just upset him.  
  
It's mid-morning already. Shuichi and I slept late. Or rather, Shuichi slept late. I woke up at dawn, covered in sweat, images of Yuki Eiri being torn to shreds by a swarm of bloodthirsty butterflies burned into my eyelids.   
  
I haven't had a nightmare which didn't involve Tomi in a very, very long time.  
  
So, what could I do? I just stayed there in bed, watching Shuichi sleep, his skin going from grey, to pale blue, to dark amber, to orange, and finally to pink as the sun rose. He sleeps on his side, with his knees drawn up and hands fisted together at his neck. (Quite cute.) He also drools. (Not so much cute as it is funny.)  
  
Now, it isn't what you might be thinking. I didn't...I mean we didn't... It's not that way. I mean, ask Kumagoro if you don't believe me. It was just sleeping, that's all it was. And there's no harm in that. I've shared a bed with Tohma, and even Noriko, when we've been on tour before. So, it's not wrong, right?   
  
Except I keep thinking that it might be...just a little...wrong.  
  
Shuichi continues to pout. I also feel bad about leaving him here. But, Ten is going to stay with him, and Kumagoro, too. So, it should be alright.  
  
"Alright, Shu, what do you think, blonde wig?"  
  
"Looks fake."  
  
Now it's my turn to pout. I hold up the wig to my head and look in the full length mirror. I went through a mirror phase a while back. Not because I think I'm super pretty, or anything like that. They just wouldn't let me look in any mirrors for so long when I was in the hospital, I was really worried that my face might have actually disappeared, and nobody wanted to tell me. I kept looking in mirrors all the time to make sure it wasn't true. But, now I just have the one mirror here, and one in the bathroom. "You don't think Ryu-chan would make a good blonde?"  
  
Shuichi taps a finger lightly against his lips. "No. I think your hair looks very sexy just the way you have it."  
  
"That's not the point..." I suddenly make a bee-line for the closet so that Shuichi can't see my face in the mirror. I think it may be possible that I am blushing. Why am I blushing? People call me sexy all the time, and it doesn't mean anything. Even linoleum can be very sexy, under the correct circumstances. Shuichi didn't mean anything at all by that. "No wig at all, then?"  
  
"You could just go with the sunglasses and surgical mask."  
  
"Very chafing, those masks." I pull my favorite headband out a drawer full of similar headbands. You should always get extras of everything you like a lot. Let's see. Headband. Alright. I've got on black slacks and a very normal looking button-up white shirt. I didn't tuck it in, though, so the hem hangs loosely at mid-thigh. I have boots on, but they are the least ostentatious boots I own, so that should be okay. With a pair of cheap sunglasses and the surgical mask, I should look like just another asthmatic Tokyo office-worker heading out to after-work drinks.  
  
"What do you think, Shu?" I turn around and hold the white mask up to my lips.  
  
Shuichi's eyebrow-piercing twitches slightly before he breaks out into giggles. My friend bounces a bit on the end of my bed and points at me. "Ryuichi, it doesn't work unless you actually button the button-up shirt. No self-respecting Tokyo office worker is going to walk around with his chest hanging out and his navel piercing showing."  
  
I look down, my brows furrowing. "Is that true?" Now that I think about it, the only office workers I've ever met are the interns at NG, and they're all really just singers looking for their big break anyway. Those guys tend to wear whatever will get them noticed.  
  
"'Course it's true. C'mere."  
  
I shuffle over to Shuichi, feeling mildly stupid about how little I know concerning anything outside of my realm of expertise. I guess I've been a rock star too long, and like any other profession, tend to not think about how other people might act.   
  
"Here," Shuichi says, pointing to the floor in front of the bed. I step forward a bit, and let him grab hold of the shirt. He buttons it for me, starting at the top and working downwards. I feel little tugs of cloth at my ribs as he pulls my shirt, dressing me. How strange, usually people try to -undress- me. "You don't have to worry about not knowing. It's not like you've ever worked in a regular office."  
  
Kumagoro, from his supine attitude on the bed, agrees.  
  
I know I shouldn't be, because it was just a dream, but I'm still a little nervous talking to Kumagoro right now. This is why I'm glad he agreed to stay with Shuichi today.  
  
That and...well...I'm still worried about Shuichi trying to hurt himself, a little.  
  
"Shu," I say as he reaches up and straightens my collar, "You're gonna be here when I get back, right?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Promise?"  
  
"Of course. You don't have to worry about me. I'm going to be fine. Even though, you know, I really don't think it's a good idea about you going, and all."  
  
"There's some things I have to sign. Recordings to approve and stuff. It's nothing important, na no da," I reply, turning to go check the results in the mirror. Not bad. I'm pretty sure I look normal. Eighty percent sure, at least. Well, sixty-five and a half percent. Who am I kidding? I have no clue.  
  
"Won't Seguchi-san be there?"  
  
"Probably, but he'll avoid me like I'm a match and he's gasoline."  
  
"That's a pretty good analogy."  
  
"I know, I think I'm going to use it in a song."  
  
"Ah, damn, I was going to steal it."  
  
Our conversation is interrupted by Molly's arrival. With that, I bid Shuichi goodbye, but only after making him promise two more times that he's going to be here when I get back.  
  
Molly and I head down the elevator and out to her car. Riding in the Lexus, instead of my limo or a taxi, is always pretty fun, because I get to ride in the front, na no da, which I don't often get to do. It's totally different to get to see Tokyo coming at you from the front, instead of just watching it whiz past you on the side.   
  
And Molly is a pretty good driver, too, which means she drives fast. (Ten is a complete slowpoke.) When people cut her off, she calls them names in English, but never exactly curses.  
  
"You doodle-head, who taught you how to drive?"  
  
See what I mean?   
  
I watch Tokyo as it passes. The city has always seemed mystical to me. She is, herself, a forbidden paramour, an entity with which you can become obscenely obsessed. At turns offering exquisite delights, then scornfully casting you aside, she taunts, teases, and tempts. One person alone can never fully possess her heart. No, it takes a multitude to satisfy her desires.  
  
And the only way to escape her eventual wrath is to change yourself, to become someone she no longer recognizes. Only then, tiptoeing and skulking through the shadows, can you find her weakness, and kill her before she kills you.  
  
"Where'd you get your license, you cheese-packer? A Crackerjack box?"  
  
I don't like that I'm having dreams about killing Yuki Eiri. I don't want to be the kind of person who will go to -any- lengths to get what he wants.   
  
But what if I am, really, not in control of myself enough to stop doing the things I know are wrong? I know it was wrong to smash up Tohma's car, but at the time, I couldn't stop myself. I wasn't thinking about right or wrong, I wasn't thinking about anything except... No, that's not right, I wasn't thinking, at all. Just like when I slapped Tohma. Just like when I let Shuichi climb into my bed.  
  
Just like when I tried to kill myself so long ago.  
  
I always do just what I want to do. I always do what feels best at the time, instead of what I know to be right.  
  
So, would I...  
  
I'm glad I probably won't find out what I would do to Yuki Eiri.  
  
"People on quaaludes shouldn't drive!"  
  
I peer at Molly, shaken from my internal dilemmas. "Molly, how do you even know what quaaludes -are-?"  
  
Molly's lips swish back and forth, as if she's debating giving me a straight answer. "Research. For my job," she replies quietly, looking rather embarrassed that she had to admit it.  
  
"I don't do that sorta stuff anymore, na no da. The only pills I take are the ones you give me."  
  
"I know, but Seguchi-san thought I should, um, know just in case."  
  
Oh.  
  
Ohhhhhh.  
  
See, even Tohma doesn't have any faith in my self-control. Then again, why should he? I can't think of a single person who trusts me to stop myself before I do the wrong thing. Not Nori-chan. Not Molly. Not Ten.   
  
Well, maybe Shuichi does. I don't know, actually.  
  
We pull into the NG parking garage only moments later. As we head inside, I put the surgical mask on over my face.   
  
I really don't want to have to talk to anyone I know.   
  
I can't imagine how I look right now, without Kumagoro, all buttoned-up and hidden beneath these shades and this mask. I probably look strange. I certainly feel different.   
  
Yes. This is good. Taking this step is good. This will be my decision. I'm going to take control of the situation. For my sake, and for Shuichi's sake. I have to make my move, so Tohma will take me seriously this time. So everyone will take me seriously.  
  
"I'll go to your office, and get your lyric notes and some files we need," Molly says as the elevator arrives at the second floor. "Are you sure you're going to be okay alone?"  
  
"Yeah."   
  
She tries to give me a reassuring smile, and continues to watch me until the elevator doors fully close.  
  
Now is the time...  
  
To make the choice.  
  
For a second, my finger hovers over the button for the first floor. I could always just go back downstairs, get a hamburger, and forget about it.  
  
The music in the elevator switches from some truly revolting old Tsunami Puppets tune to Nittle Grasper's 'Shining Collection'.  
  
That song was a lie.  
  
Yuki Eiri wrote a lie, and Tohma made me sing it.  
  
The button for the fourth floor lights up under the pressure of my fingertip.   
  
There comes a time when lies must end, when the illusion must be torn away to reveal the monster underneath. I don't know Tohma anymore, and he no longer knows me. The imaginary world I've constructed must be torn down, bulldozed, demolished, to make way for something new and better.  
  
It will be better this way, really it will.  
  
"Red soaked fingertips dye the atmosphere with fluttering butterfly tears," my voice sings into my ears.  
  
The door opens to reveal a long hallway, completely devoid of people. I step off of the elevator, but before the doors close, my voice says, "And all is turned to sand, shining, make you cry..."  
  
My footsteps echo in the empty hallway as I find the door to Tohma's office. I don't even hesitate, don't knock, don't have a second thought. No. I just throw the doors open and step inside. I don't even -care- if Tohma is in here or not.   
  
Is Tohma in here?  
  
Yeah, he is. He's sitting on that ugly leather couch of his, talking into his cellphone. His head jerks up and he stares at me, wide-eyed. I guess he wasn't expecting I'd show up this quickly.  
  
"Ryuichi?"  
  
I ignore him. Instead I head straight for his desk, the notes of 'Shining Collection' still replaying over and over in my mind. Lies. So many lies. How can people lie so prettily? With smiles and sighs and words so adoring? Where do you learn to make lies like this?  
  
I step behind the desk. In my rush, my hand slaps down on the desktop, my thick gold ring, identical to the one buried with Tomi, makes a tremendous 'pop' against the wood as I pull open the top drawer.  
  
This noise makes Tohma flinch as he babbles something incoherent into his cellphone.  
  
And there, laying in that mahogany drawer, is the Nittle Grasper contract, just like Tohma promised. Well, at least he tells the truth about some things. I peer at it for only a second before grabbing it. Yes. It says Nittle Grasper on it. The sunlight from the window behind me illuminates the names signed at the bottom.  
  
In a pretty script, "Ukai Noriko".  
  
In precise block writing, "Seguchi Tohma".  
  
And lastly, an almost unreadable scribble of "Sakuma Ryuichi".  
  
I hold it up for Tohma to see. His eyes narrow slightly, his hand, the one holding the cellphone, drops to the seat of the couch.  
  
Tearing it down the middle seems to take forever, even though you know it doesn't really take more than a second or two. Time is elongated, like moments spent in an earthquake.   
  
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip.  
  
The sound reminds me vaguely of a wrecking ball smashing into a building.  
  
I tear the pages again and again, as many times as possible, so there can be no mistake in Tohma's mind of what I came to do. I make him watch as Nittle Grasper is torn into shreds. I make him listen as the paper says for me, 'I don't need you anymore, Seguchi Tohma. I don't need you at all.'  
  
I head towards Tohma, feeling fire in my veins, heat in my throat. He sits quite still, not knowing exactly what to expect, I suppose. Stopping only a foot or two away from him, I look down at him, looking up at me. He's wearing his black Armani suit over a purple silk shirt, and this fact makes me smirk.  
  
I know how this story ends.  
  
The paper fragments I toss at Tohma flutter downwards, a thousand white butterflies of retribution seeking to stop his heart. Is it painful for you, Tohma, I wonder? Because you did this to yourself. This is what you chose the moment you decided to become involved in the affairs of the butterflies. You just had to know the forbidden secrets, of how Yuki Eiri might taste, of how he might sound, of what it might feel like, when he belonged to you, instead of Shuichi.  
  
The retribution of the butterflies is terrible, indeed.  
  
But it must be what you wanted, because that was the choice you made.  
  
Without having ever said a word, I leave Tohma there, sitting covered in torn shards of the Nittle Grasper contract.  
  
By the time I get back to the elevator, the music has changed again.  
  
Now it's Bad Luck, and Shuichi is singing.  
  
I hope he doesn't mind, but...  
  
I think I'll sing along.  
  
I'm just a fan, now. Just a fan of Bad Luck singing along with the music in the elevator. Nittle Grasper is gone. I will never sing lies again.  
  
And you know what?  
  
It feels good.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Molly is still going through the papers in my office by the time I return. I don't really want to sit in there. In fact, I don't really want to be in NG at all, anymore.   
  
She doesn't ask me about what happened with Tohma. I guess she just thinks that I'll tell her when I'm ready, which I will. Instead, she hands me one of my credit cards and tells me to be careful.  
  
I guess she can tell that I need to get some air. And dressed like this, no one is going to recognize me, anyway. Besides, Shining Collection CDs is only two blocks away.  
  
Yes. It's really called Shining Collection CDs.  
  
SCCDs is absolutely my most favorite store on the entire planet. It used to just be called "Rexie's" up until a few years ago, when 'Shining Collection' came out. Then the owner, Soumei Reji, affectionately known to everyone as "Rexie", asked me if he could change the name.  
  
In return, I get free CDs for life. Well, as long as I don't pick up more than a half-dozen a week. Then I have to pay. And sometimes, I just need a lot of CDs.  
  
A LOT of CDs.  
  
Sixty million zillion.  
  
Alright, not quite that many.  
  
Not that Rexie didn't give me free CDs sometimes -before- he changed the name. He was you know, the first manager Nittle Grasper ever had. He retired a while after Tomi died, gave the contract to Tohma and K, and opened his little CD shop down the street.  
  
I think he likes it a lot more than being a manager.  
  
I take the elevator down to the first floor, make sure I have the mask and sunglasses on, and head out onto the street. At this time of day, Tokyo buzzes with activity. There's cars honking, people selling everything from newspapers to expensive looking knock-off jewelry, a hundred different people hurrying towards a hundred different destinations. The city smells spicy, like exotic after-shave and hot peppers, but that might just be the Thai place on the corner and the cluster of about a dozen businessmen standing around it.   
  
Despite what I've just done, I feel somehow more free now, like I'd been carrying around giant boulders in my pockets and suddenly just figured out how to take them out. Making big decisions can do this to you, it seems.   
  
I take my time going to SCCDs, perusing the windows at various shops, watching as a cluster of schoolgirls swoon at the front of an electronics shop that just happens to have music videos playing on the TVs. Unfortunately, they're playing that stupid Tsunami Puppets video where Red flops around on the floor in black latex.   
  
I used to like that song.  
  
I used to be a big Tsunami Puppets fan.  
  
I wonder if Red got his ear patched up.  
  
Anyway, I finally arrive at SCCD's, but not before buying a cool bracelet off of a street vendor. It's a black leather band with fluffy pink faux fur trim sewn onto the edge. I think I'll give it to Shuichi.  
  
SCCD's isn't very big. The whole store would easily fit in my living room, but its packed ceiling to floor with every CD you could imagine. Wherever there's an inch of space left over, Rexie has flyers for local bands, posters, music magazines, and other great music paraphernalia.  
  
The place is a feast for the ears and eyes.  
  
The little bell on the door rings as I open it and step inside. There's thankfully few customers here today. In fact, the only one that I see is Old Rho, a local jazz musician who still collects actual vinyl records. He's got four record players. He used to have five, but I bought one of them off him a few months ago.  
  
I wonder where I put that record player.  
  
"Welcome to Shining Collection," Rexie says mildly listlessly from behind the counter as he turns over a new CD and squints at the back, "Can I help you find anything today?"  
  
"Yeah, do you have a bootleg copy of the Nittle Grasper concert in Dresden, 1996?"  
  
"Look buddy. First of all, we don't sell bootlegs. Second of all, Nittle Grasper didn't tour Europe until 1997..." Rexie puts down the CD and leans forward, his eyes becoming thin slits as he looks me up and down. Finally, he throws his hands up in the air and laughs, "Ryuichi?"  
  
I push my sunglasses up and wink at him.  
  
"Ryu, you...you damn imp!"   
  
After Rexie makes his way around the counter, he barges at me, and I end up with 250lbs of ex-manager swishing me into a tight hug.   
  
"Can't...breathe..."  
  
"Didn't recognize you. What's up with the disguise? Where's Kumagoro? Why the hell didn't call ahead? Do you want some pizza?"  
  
Rexie's big on asking questions and moving on before you can answer. "Can't...breathe...Rex...ie..."  
  
"Oh, right." Rexie lets me go and clasps a firm hand on my shoulder. "Okay, let me hear it."  
  
"Rexie," I whine, "Not that..."  
  
"Give it to me now, or else."  
  
I look at Old Rho for support. He just shrugs.   
  
"Give me my goddamn 'LA', Ryuichi. I have to check your voice."  
  
I sigh and do as he asks. We're not going to get anywhere until Rexie is satisfied that my voice checks out.  
  
"Laaaaaaaaaaaa."  
  
"And the next?"  
  
"Faaalaaaalaaaaa."  
  
"Alright, good!" Rexie shoves me in the direction of the counter. "C'mere, I got some great stuff I've been saving for you. I've even got..." Rexie rummages around in one of the drawers, "A copy of the 'I'm Afraid of Americans' single signed by both Bowie -and- Reznor."  
  
Oh My God.  
  
I've turned into a blubbering fangirl.  
  
Shuichi is going to have a conniption.  
  
Rexie sure knows how to completely annihilate a tense and exhausting day.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I've got two bags of CDs, magazines, and other stuff, one in each hand, as I walk down the street back towards NG. I can't believe how much I ended up buying.   
  
Plus, Rexie gave me a limited edition copy of 'Critical Sunshine' with the extra CD of interviews with Bad Luck. I think I'm going to get Shuichi to sign it for me. With a pink paint marker.  
  
Or maybe one of those glitter pens.  
  
I don't think I'll tell him about the Nittle Grasper contract, yet. Maybe next week.  
  
While I am contemplating my purchases, and the excitement of going home to see Shuichi, I get this rather odd prickle on the back of my neck. You know, the one where you feel like something is wrong, but you just can't place what it is?  
  
On a whim, I look over my shoulder. There's someone...in a baseball cap...and a windbreaker...  
  
I stop  
  
He stops.  
  
I can't see who...  
  
I begin to walk a little faster. Looking back again, I find that -he's- walking a little faster.  
  
Fuck.  
  
I break out into a run, making my way through the people, weaving in and out of the crowd. People fly past so quickly that they don't even have faces anymore. My heart pumps wildly as I look back a third time.  
  
There's no one.  
  
That's when I feel one of the bags in my hand being ripped away from my grasp. The thief, the same guy in the baseball cap and faded jacket, darts into an alleyway that runs along the side of NG studios. And he takes with him all the CDs, as well as the bracelet I bought for Shuichi.  
  
That's just...not....NICE!  
  
I duck into the alleyway, leaving the busy streets of Tokyo behind. This place smells like burning plastic. Nonetheless, it's pretty clean. There's some dumpsters, and some seriously unfixable old recording equipment lying in a big pile. Otherwise, there's nothing much here besides two walls and a concrete walkway.  
  
My footsteps echo off of the stone edifices as I slowly make my way forward. Maybe they took the CDs but threw out the bracelet. Then, at least, I'd have something left besides just this bag of magazines.   
  
"Sakuma-san, Sakuma-san, I've been waiting for you for days," a thick voice taunts.  
  
"Who's there?"  
  
The figure in the baseball cap steps halfway out from behind a dumpster, "There's such rumors at NG, right now. Where has our beloved Sakuma Ryuichi, god of music and lust been all this time? And do you know what they say? They say that he's shacked up with that utterly contemptible little whore from Bad Luck. You should have just told me that you wanted to go slumming, Sakuma-san, we could have gone together."  
  
I know that voice. I -know- that voice.  
  
"But, no, no, you chose -him-, that whiny little pink haired punk, over -me-. ME! Fuck, Sakuma-san, does that puny runt even -have- a dick? He looks so much like a girl...you'd think he'd had it chopped off..."  
  
"Please don't talk about Shuichi that way," I say quietly, trying my hardest not to step backwards "And please give me back my CDs....Red."  
  
"Fuck no. I'll consider them part of my payment for getting my goddamn ear half chewed off. And as for the rest of my payment..."  
  
Red steps into the middle of the alleyway, and that is when I see...  
  
The shiny aluminum baseball bat in his hand.  
  
"I'm really going to enjoy beating the crap out of you, Sakuma-san. Your pretty face won't taunt me anymore. When I get done, I'm sure, you'll never sing again. I'll never have to envy your achievements. I'll never lay awake at night wondering what it would be like to have you, because you'll be ugly and broken, and -nobody- will want you anymore."  
  
"You're sick. Demented. Totally insane," I say, not really paying attention. I'm trying to decide if I can make it back out of the alley, if I can run fast enough... But, no. Red is tall and lanky, completely wiry. As soon as I turn, he'll jump me.  
  
"Sick? Demented? Insane? Aren't those just occupational hazards for us, Sakuma-san?" Red peels off his baseball cap and lets his fiery crimson hair hang down over his shoulders. He plants his feet and lifts the baseball bat. "C'mon, Ryuichi. I tell you what. If you strip out of that ridiculous outfit you're wearing, crawl over here on your hands and knees, and beg, I won't hit you in the face."  
  
"No." I'm scared. Completely terrified. But, I'm pretty sure that doing what Red just asked isn't going to spare me any pain. He's going to beat me half to death, so I might as well save myself the humiliation.  
  
"No?" Red snarls, and stomps his foot childishly. "NO? DON'T. YOU. EVER. TELL. ME. NO. AGAIN!!!"  
  
I close my eyes as Red darts forward. Being hit with a baseball bat will probably be pretty bad. So, I have to prepare myself. After the first time, fall down on the ground and curl into a ball. That's what Ten always says. If someone is hurting you, curl into a ball with your hands over your face to protect your hands, face and stomach. Right? No. Except for riots at concerts, and then you're supposed to get as high off the ground as possible so you don't get trampled.  
  
Or do I have that backwards?  
  
Crap, I should pay more attention.  
  
But, really, that's Kumagoro's job. Isn't it?  
  
Yes. Being hit with a baseball bat will probably hurt a lot. I'll think of good things. Okay. Good things. Um. Coloring with Kumagoro. Tomi dancing around our apartment wearing nothing but an apron. Shuichi's smile. Yes. That's it. Shuichi's smile.  
  
Fw-THUMP.  
  
Click.  
  
"What are you smiling about, idiot? Get over here and take his bat."  
  
I open one eye, just a little, and see the most wonderfully horrible thing I could ever imagine.  
  
Standing over the prone, and trembling body of the Tsunami Puppets' lead singer, is Yuki Eiri.  
  
And the reason why Red is trembling...  
  
Is because Yuki Eiri has a gun.  
  
Now, I don't know much about guns, but what I do know is this: No matter what kind is pointed at your head, you shut up pretty quick.  
  
"Yuki-san?" I ask, tiptoeing forward ever-so-carefully.  
  
"The bat, Sakuma, the bat."  
  
"Um...okay..." I step over Red's legs and bend down to pick up the bat laying only a few inches from Red's fingers. I put it over behind the dumpster, which is, of course, where I find my bag of CDs.  
  
By the time I return, Yuki Eiri has his foot in the middle of Red's chest. Those brilliant amber eyes of Yuki-san's could drive fear into a raging lion, I think.   
  
I really hope he doesn't shoot Red. Because that would be messy, loud, and very hard to explain.  
  
"Now," Yuki-san says, pressing the toe of his foot into Red's sternum. "Open your mouth."  
  
Red doesn't at first. But then Yuki-san grinds the barrel of the gun against his lips, and I guess it's either do that...or have his teeth broken off from the pressure.  
  
I'm even more scared -now- than I was when it was just Red with a bat. Without Kumagoro to hold on to, I just clutch my shopping bags to my chest.   
  
"Remember the taste of the end of this gun," Yuki-san says, his voice dark as night, "Because if I ever hear of you threatening Sakuma-san, or Shindou-san, ever again, I'll be coming after you. Only next time, I'll send a bullet down your throat. Got it?"  
  
Red tries to nod, but he just ends up clacking his teeth against the gun.  
  
"Good." Yuki-san pulls the gun out of Red's mouth, thankfully, and removes his foot from the other man's chest. After that, Yuki-san bends down, mutters something at Red that I can't hear, stands back up...  
  
And kicks Red directly in the head.  
  
This knocks him out.  
  
I hope he's just knocked out. Because he isn't moving much.   
  
No, he's breathing. I can see his chest still moving. Oh, that's a relief.  
  
Mildly.  
  
Yuki-san takes a deep breath, and his shoulders sag a bit as he puts the gun back in his pants, or his pocket, or wherever guns go. I can't see because his long jacket is in the way.  
  
"Come on, Sakuma, we're leaving," he says, turning to face me, but not exactly -looking- at me. His blonde hair hangs limply in his face, and he appears to be coated in a thin sheen of sweat. I can't tell, exactly, what he wants or what he might be thinking. Yuki-san is as hard to read as Tohma, but at least with Tohma I have years of friendship upon which to rely.  
  
I must be just standing there, staring in complete and utter confusion, because Yuki-san repeats himself. "Sakuma. Now. Let's go."  
  
"Ano, Yuki-san..." There's practically an entire dictionary full of questions I need to ask him all the same time. They all jumble together so completely that I just end up stumbling after him as he walks towards the back of the alley. There's a dull grey door there, painted with some very important words. "To Garage."  
  
Oh god. He's going to take me to his car, drive me out into the middle of nowhere, shoot me, and dump my body.  
  
Maybe Yuki-san set this whole thing up. Maybe he had Red attack me just so he could get my trust and I'd follow him to his car and then...  
  
Wait, why would Yuki-san want to kill me?  
  
Well, except for the fact that his ex-boyfriend is living at my house.  
  
But, if he doesn't want Shuichi anymore then, why would he even care?  
  
"Come ON, Sakuma," Yuki-san says, grabbing my wrist and dragging me through the door. "We're going."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Elsewhere."  
  
I don't like the growl in his voice.  
  
No, not at all.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Yuki-san is an even better driver than Molly. This is to say that he drives very, very, very fast. He has a nice car. It looks like brand new, but I think he's had it for a while because it has upwards of 30k kilometers on it. I wonder how he keeps it so clean. Yuki-san doesn't really seem like the type of guy who obsesses over his car. Though, I did notice an empty box of Pocky peeking out from underneath the passenger side seat. Maybe Shuichi cleans it.   
  
I should really learn to drive. It seems like fun. Then I could just get in my car and go places. I could take Shuichi out to Yokohama to visit my parents in spring when the harbor is pretty and windy and all the posh set are out on their yachts. We could rent a boat. Wait, no, that's probably not a good idea because Kumagoro and I both get sea sick.  
  
I wonder if Shuichi gets sea sick.  
  
I wonder if Yuki Eiri knows or cares whether Shuichi gets sea sick.  
  
I'm very nervous.  
  
I'm very nervous, and I don't have Kumagoro here, and Yuki Eiri has a gun and he's driving me somewhere very fast, but I don't know where, and I can't even see his eyes because he's wearing shades, and Tohma's going to be furious, and Molly's going to be furious, and Shuichi and Ten are going to be incredibly worried.  
  
I guess I...better say..something.  
  
"Yuki-san," I say, fiddling with the strap on the seat belt, "Why were you there...behind NG?"  
  
He doesn't answer.  
  
"I mean because, I think Red would have probably beaten me pretty badly with the bat if you hadn't shown up."  
  
Yuki Eiri's hands tighten around the steering wheel. "Don't you have a bodyguard you're supposed to stay with, idiot?"  
  
"Yeah, but he's..." He's at my home making sure Shuichi doesn't try to throw himself off the balcony again. I'm not going to tell you that. I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of knowing how much you're hurting Shuichi. Okay, now I am a little less scared, and little more angry.  
  
"I was smoking a cigarette out in front of NG, waiting for you. I saw that asshole pull you into the alley and followed you."  
  
"But, how did you know I was at NG?"  
  
"Who do you think Seguchi-kun was on the phone with when you barged into his office?"  
  
"Oh? Oh. Right." Well, that makes sense, I guess. No. NO IT DOESN'T. It doesn't make any sense at all. Didn't he just sign a restrainy contract thing to keep Shu and I away from him? And now he came to find me?   
  
My brain is going to explode all over Yuki-san's nice, pretty, clean car.  
  
Ooo, the air conditioner feels good on my hands. It reminds me of Shuichi's soft little touches on my palms. His fingers sliding between mine...  
  
Wait, no, I can't be thinking about this while I am in the car with Yuki-san. I've got to focus.   
  
I should be focusing on where the hell we are going, so that when Yuki Eiri inevitably shoots me, I can possibly drag my nigh-lifeless body to the nearest phone.  
  
Or hospital.  
  
Whichever is more convenient.  
  
But, I can't really see anything as it whizzes past. I mean, I can see it, but the buildings don't make any sense to me. Are we uptown? Are we downtown? What district are we in? I don't know. I can't tell.   
  
I'm feeling dizzy, which is never a good sign.  
  
Dizzy and losing even more control over everything that's happening. I don't understand. It wasn't supposed to be this way. Once I made my decision with the Nittle Grasper contract, -I- was supposed to be in control again. I took my destiny into my own hands, so...  
  
My mind keeps flashing back to Yuki Eiri standing over Red with that gun in his hand. Guns. Are. Bad. Even -I- know that.  
  
"Yuki-san," I say quietly, running my fingertips over the leather dashboard. Well, at least if I die, I'll die speeding down the highway surrounded by fine Italian leather. "I don't understand. Why do you have a gun?"  
  
And why did you bring it to NG?  
  
"You don't want to know," Yuki-san says tonelessly.  
  
"No, I do." I take a deep breath, feeling the cool crisp car air swirl around in my lungs. I've got to try to...be... Tomi, help me be eloquent. Please. "Look, I know you think I'm an idiot. You and I, we've never exactly been friends. And, I figure that Tohma's told you about a lot of the stupid things I've done over the years. But, I'm seriously just trying to understand what is going on here. I just want to help, that's all."  
  
Please let him believe me.  
  
Yuki-san keeps driving. I guess he didn't believe me. Or, he just doesn't care, or...  
  
"Where's your stuffed animal?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"That pink thing you drag around everywhere, where is it?"  
  
I look out the window. We're going over a bridge now. The water sparkles underneath the low-hanging sun. Must be nice to be a fish. I'd like to try it sometime. You know, except for the sea sickness, and all.  
  
"If I tell you where Kumagoro is, will you tell me why you have a gun?"  
  
Yuki-san shrugs the smallest shrug possible. I think that is a 'yes'. I'm not exactly sure, though.  
  
It's hard to even say it. Somehow, I feel like, just by saying it, I'm confessing to some horrible crime. "Kumagoro is with Shuichi. I left him with Shuichi, so maybe Shuichi would...feel a little better, I guess."  
  
Even though I'm observing him carefully, there's absolutely no sign of a reaction of any sort from Yuki-san.   
  
"So, about the gun?"  
  
As he takes a cigarette pack out of his jacket pocket, Yuki-san makes a left turn. That's got to be hard to do, simultaneously, like that. Yuki-san bounces the box in his hand and draws out one of the cigs with his lips.  
  
He doesn't light it, though. It just hangs there, like it helps him think.  
  
"I bought a gun," Yuki-san says, his voice dreamlike and far away, "Because I've been thinking about killing someone."  
  
The car pulls to a stop at a light.  
  
And at this instant, I'm utterly afraid. Not because I'm breaking the law just by being in the car with Yuki Eiri, not because I'm being kidnapped by a man with a gun who just confessed he's thinking about murder...  
  
But because, right then, a butterfly lands on the front window.  
  
The most beautiful butterfly I've ever seen.  
  
And a voice, deep, deep inside my mind whispers...  
  
"I know how this story ends."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
***In Our Next Chapter: Will Ryuichi get answers? OR will he get shot? Conversely, will Ryuichi take a preemptive strike and do something horrible to Yuki? Double Glitz. Perverse acts. And a kiss that could drive a man insane.  
  
***Author Notes:  
  
Well, that was a pretty bad cliffhanger. Sorry. I'll try to get the next chapter out, superquick. Also, FF.net appears to be cracking down on review replies. This makes me extremely sad, because I think it is a fanfiction author's privilege and joy to answer questions in reviews and thank readers.   
  
So, since I can't currently get a straight answer from ff.net themselves about what is okay, review-reply-wise, I'm going to post my review comments on my webpage. You can find the link in my profile, if you want to go through the trouble. I should have the ones from last chapter, and the chapter before, up by tomorrow night at the latest! Thanks again SO MUCH for all your reviews, which are like a thousand beautiful butterflies making my heart leap for joy!  
  
Ack. Bit of a mistake on the Rexie part. Thanks for Veleda for pointing it out. I changed up the wording to make the timeline work out better. 


	8. Double Glitz

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 8: Double Glitz  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The question begs to be asked, but I'm not going to do it. I'm not so sure I want to know who it is Yuki Eiri has been thinking about killing.  
  
Obviously, four possibilities come immediately to mind.  
  
One. Yuki Eiri might be considering killing me. This seems possible, since he did just show up at NG for, apparently, no other reason than to get me in his car to 'talk' to me. (We're not doing a lot of talking.) Maybe he's angry that I smashed up Tohma's car. Or, maybe he's somehow upset that I've got Shuichi living at my penthouse. But, since he pretty much beat Shuichi up and then tossed him away, I don't think wanting to kill me would make any sense.  
  
Unless Yuki Eiri is much less sane than he lets on.  
  
Two. Yuki Eiri has been considering killing Shuichi. Why? What could possibly drive Yuki-san to such an extreme hatred against Shu-chan? Unless, maybe, Tohma's been filling Yuki-san's head with some sorts of lies about Shuichi. Maybe that's why Yuki-san threw Shuichi out in the first place. But, what could Tohma possibly say that Yuki-san would -believe-?  
  
Three. Yuki Eiri is thinking about killing -himself-. But, he's awful calm, cool, and collected to be contemplating suicide. I mean, I remember what I was like when -I- went down that path, and Yuki Eiri seems to be the same as he ever was. Why would he purposefully push Shuichi away, start sleeping with Tohma, and then shoot himself? Unless he feels guilty. But, seriously, if he feels guilty, why not just -stop- sleeping with Tohma, confess his wrongdoing to Shu-chan, and try to pick up the pieces? I know Shuichi would be angry, but he'd probably forgive Yuki-san in time.  
  
Four. Yuki Eiri, possibly, just possibly, might be thinking about killing Tohma. I'm not sure why I think this may be a possibility, I just do. Maybe Tohma is capable of worse things than I've considered. Maybe my ex-best-friend has Yuki Eiri under his sway somehow, like...with blackmail or...drugs or...some strange sex thing.  
  
But, no. Tohma's not like -that-.  
  
I mean, sure, he's been acting like a complete jerk, recently, but he's not -that- cruel.  
  
Is he?  
  
I've been watching too much TV. My imagination must be running away with me.  
  
But, if it isn't one of those four possibilities, then who? Who else is involved? K? Mika-san? Hiroshi-kun? Nori-chan?  
  
What the hell is his motivation? There's always -motivation-. On TV, the lawyers always discover it right before the person on the witness stand breaks out into tears and confesses that, yes, yes, they did kill so-and-so. But, goddamnit, it was a crime of passion!  
  
So, yes, the question BEGS to be asked, but I'm not asking it.   
  
Without all these possibilities, I can come to only one conclusion.  
  
Zombies.  
  
No. More likely aliens.  
  
Aliens are using their mind control rays on all of us. They're drinking up Shuichi's emotions. They're interfering with my thoughts and making me lose focus all the time. They've installed some sort of remote-control device on Tohma. And aliens, yes, definitely aliens, are instructing Yuki Eiri to kill someone.  
  
Aliens. It's the only logical explanation.  
  
Sigh. Now I sound like my bodyguard.  
  
Yuki Eiri hasn't said a word since the stoplight, the one when the butterfly landed. We're deep in the heart of a rather interesting district. It looks familiar, like I've been here before...a long time ago...and just can't place it.   
  
Wait, no. I think Tomi and I came to a club around here, once. It was right after Nittle Grasper's first CD started to make it big. There was a dance club. Oh, what was it called?   
  
Monarch's.  
  
That's right. It had a butterfly theme. How could I forget? Neither Tomi or I had ever been to a rave before, and we got seriously blitzed. There was a foam room and...  
  
Ohhhh. Right. That was nice.  
  
"You're thinking about that guy."  
  
I turn, so slowly, to see Yuki Eiri watching me out of the corner of his eye. His gaze lingers for some time before he returns to watching the road.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Tomi. You're thinking about him."  
  
"H..how did you know?"  
  
Yuki-san flicks his cigarette out the window with one sharp twist of his wrist. "I'm a romance novelist. It's my job to watch the world, to watch people, to carefully study how they react to one another. You used to smile like that when he walked in a room. After...after he was gone, you never smiled like that anymore. Except once. Once I saw it again."  
  
"When?"  
  
The car is suddenly completely still. Yuki-san pulls the keys out of the ignition and opens his door. I've been so engrossed in what's going on inside the car, I didn't even notice that we've pulled into a parking-lot. "C'mon, idiot. We're going. And put the surgical mask back on."  
  
I open the door and stumble out, pulling the mask back up and sliding my sunglasses down. Yuki Eiri is already halfway across the parkinglot, so I have to run to catch up.  
  
In front of us is a...bar? Or is it a club? The neon sign above the columns painted to resemble Greek architecture reads "Double Glitz". There's two rather burly bouncers standing on the well-worn red carpet leading up to the glass doors, sharing a cigarette and ashing into an absolutely pathetic looking fern. A positively tiny woman, who I can only deduce must be some sort of hostess, bows deeply to Yuki-san as he approaches.  
  
"Ah, you've finally arrived. We're so glad to have you with us, as always. Oh, and you have company? Wonderful. Wonderful. The usual room, then? Right this way, sirs."  
  
Beyond the glass doors, there's a standard foyer. Yuki-san and I both slip off our shoes and are taken around a wall to a staircase on the side of an open restaurant room. I linger behind slightly, looking down at the room as I make my way up the stairs. The glow from the red glass around the candles on the tables bathes the entire place in brilliant crimson. It seems everyone is drinking white wine or champagne tonight, the candlelight shattering into a million pieces as it passes through the flutes and lands on the linen tablecloths. Beyond the tables, there is a rather sizeable stage, currently hidden by a red curtain of faux velvet.  
  
And yet, beyond this, I get the impression that the class on the outset merely hides something more seedy beyond. The carpet just isn't clean enough, with occasional dark spots where this-or-that didn't come out with a light shampooing. And the walls are just a little too barren, lacking any sort of relevant art or design.   
  
There's all sorts of clients, from businessmen to...  
  
Hey. Is that Gackt?  
  
That...really...looks like...  
  
And, I think sitting at the table by the stage is one of the actors from that daytime drama that Molly likes.   
  
Come to think of it...there...over there in the corner...isn't that the host of that hilarious game show...  
  
"C'mon idiot. We're waiting on you."  
  
I bound up the last few steps. The hostess leads us down a hallway and ushers Yuki and I into yet another, but much smaller, dimly lit private room with a low table. There's red satin pillows lining the walls, which all seem to contain cabinets of various sorts.   
  
Yuki-san nods to the hostess and takes a seat. For myself, I'm utterly confused and just...stand there.  
  
Yuki Eiri didn't want to kill me? He was taking me to dinner?  
  
"I'm Mitsu," the hostess says, bowing to me. "If there is anything you need during your stay with us, please do not hesitate to ask. Now, can I bring you gentlemen drinks?"  
  
"The usual," Yuki-san declares, fishing once again for his cigarettes.  
  
"And you, sir?"  
  
"Um. Orange soda?"   
  
Yuki-san's lighter flickers, causing the shadows in the room to shift slightly. "Bring him a screwdriver, heavy on the vodka."  
  
"No, I..."  
  
"That -is- what you drink, isn't it?"  
  
How does he -know- that?  
  
Mitsu smiles and nods. Apparently she takes orders from Yuki-san, despite what she said. "And the rest shall be as you discussed over the phone, Yuki-san?"  
  
Yuki-san had -reservations- for this place?   
  
With a slight nod of his head, Yuki Eiri agrees and dismisses Mitsu, all in one fluid motion. She slides the door closed behind her, leaving me with perhaps the most enigmatic man since...  
  
Well, since me.  
  
"Don't just stand there. Sit down, baka."  
  
Seeing few other options, I do as he says. Sitting alone, here in this badly-lit room with Yuki Eiri just isn't right. The silence is stifling, and with a lack of anything better to do, I pull down my mask and start twirling my sunglasses in my fingers.   
  
I wish Kumagoro was here.  
  
I wish Shuichi was here.  
  
No, I don't. I really don't.  
  
"You don't drink anymore?" Yuki-san finally asks.  
  
The sudden change to conversation startles me, and my sunglasses clack against the table. "Ano, not really. No. I try not to drink much."  
  
"Why?"  
  
I look at the wall, hoping that there will be something there to catch my interest and let me avoid the question. Unfortunately, there isn't. "Nothing good ever comes of it."  
  
"What does come of it?"  
  
Is he trying to get under my skin? What is -with- this line of questioning? I've got to turn the conversation back around. There are things I need to know.  
  
"You know, Yuki-san, I don't see how talking about my drinking habits are going to..."  
  
"What happened when you drank?" Yuki Eiri reiterates. His voice isn't forceful, exactly, or threatening. It's just...demanding. I wish I could see his eyes. I wish I knew...where he was going with this.  
  
"A lot of people got hurt. People that didn't deserve it. And I...also...sometimes got hurt, too."  
  
"There are people who deserve to be hurt?"  
  
I wonder if I can hide underneath this table. It's pretty low to the ground, but I think I can get under there. Somehow, Yuki Eiri can make me feel like I need to crawl into a hole, just by asking questions.  
  
I don't answer the question. It's not exactly the kind of question you can answer. Instead, I bend over and look underneath the table.  
  
Maybe there's a clue down there.  
  
"You're a real idiot," Yuki Eiri says, finally ashing the cigarette that has been hanging from his mouth for the past few minutes. "Even dumber than I always thought."  
  
"You shouldn't listen to everything Tohma says."  
  
"Are you kidding? Tohma practically worships the ground you walk on. I don't need him to know how much of an idiot you are."  
  
"Okay," I say, popping my head up again, "Let's talk about Tohma. Why? Why would you toss away Shuichi, why would you do this to someone who loves you -so- much? Is it for Tohma? Did Tohma do something to you?"  
  
Finally, finally, I get a reaction out of Yuki Eiri. It isn't much, but I see the corners of his lips downturn, and he winces. On the other hand, he could just be squinting. It is hard to see in here.  
  
"Tohma did nothing. I just don't need that little brat around anymore."  
  
"But, you said you loved him! I heard it! I heard it on the phone!"  
  
There's a tap on the paper door, interrupting the conversation. Mitsu brings in our drinks and leaves again. The atmosphere in the room hangs dark, like a storm cloud threatening to break.  
  
Shuichi called me a storm cloud once. Oh, Shu-chan, I'm so sorry. I bet you're so worried right now.  
  
I drink practically the entire double screwdriver in a half-dozen gulps or less. It's a wonder that Shu-chan hasn't been turned into a raging drunk over the past few years. I can really see where living with Yuki Eiri would drive you to become a booze hound.   
  
Oh god, I've missed hard liquor. This is quality vodka, too. You can tell by the smoothness. It slides down your throat, silky sweet, the tang of the orange juice...  
  
Oranges. Tomi smelled of oranges and old books. Yes. That's why I don't drink screwdrivers anymore.   
  
"Look, Yuki-san," I say, placing the glass on the table carefully. "I have to know. Why did you sleep with Tohma? Do you love him?"  
  
The question fuels the fire behind his amber eyes. Luminescent against the candlelight, burning like hot coals, I can almost imagine what Shuichi might see in Yuki.  
  
And then the fire extinguishes, completely and thoroughly, leaving no trace, not even a smolder, not even smoke. Yuki Eiri looks down and to the left, considering the beer in his hand.  
  
"Love is a disease, and I am, fortunately, immune. All that matters is having someone to fuck, and where that is concerned, one warm body is as good as the next, I suppose."  
  
He's lying to me. I'm sure of it.  
  
Alright, alright, I'm not sure. But he sounds -too- certain, as if he had been thinking about how to answer that question for a long time.   
  
"You don't believe that. You have to love Shuichi. It's just not fair if you don't." I can't believe this. I'm actually trying to convince the ex-boyfriend of the person I'm falling for to confess his love. Is this right or wrong? I DON'T EVEN KNOW ANYMORE.   
  
I should jump Yuki Eiri, get that gun and blow my own damn brains out.   
  
Ooo, Ryu-chan, that's dark. That's real dark. I don't think you need go "go there".  
  
"Fair?" Yuki Eiri slams his beer down on the table, "How can you, of all people, think that life is fair? Your lover was ripped away from you before you even had a chance to really begin your life together. If you still believe life is fair, his death must have fucked you up more than anyone knows."  
  
Why is it that every conversation I have these days gets turned back around to focus on Tomi's death and my subsequent breakdown?  
  
"Tomi taught me to never give up on love, Yuki-san. You don't have to give up on Shu..."  
  
My winning speech to turn Yuki Eiri's heart from coal to mush is interrupted by a slight rap on the paper door.   
  
More drinks?  
  
That would be nice but...  
  
Suddenly, I feel dizzy.  
  
And I am not talking about the usual kind of dizzy. Not the kind I am familiar with, where the world is pressing in on me, where the room buzzes and vibrates, taunting me with flickering hallucinations of the past and a very gruesome possible future. No, this is more....  
  
Placid and glowing and...oh...  
  
I feel pretty.  
  
"Enter," Yuki Eiri commands, putting any stop to our conversation.  
  
The paper door slides open, the sound reminding me of a dull xylophone note.   
  
Backlit from the hallway, I see the silhouette of a person who is definitely not Mitsu-san. Thin and wispy body, with a mop of hair tumbling in a million different directions. Giant black boots with scores of buckles clinging to trim calves. Silken thighs disappearing into shorts that must be three sizes too big. Svelte hips. Firm stomach. A black mesh shirt that reveals a delicious chest. Strappy arm warmers clinging to wiry arm muscles.  
  
He steps into the room, letting the red glow of candlelight reveal the rest. Pink hair with blue highlights. A little purple eyebrow ring. And that face...the face I adore...  
  
I lean forward in both awe and horror.   
  
Shuichi?  
  
I don't understand. What is going on? Why is he here? His eyes. If I can just see them, then I will know. I need to see his...  
  
Wait.  
  
When did Shuichi get a haircut?  
  
How is he wearing boots like that with his feet still all cut up?  
  
And, where are Shuichi's bruises?  
  
But, most of all...  
  
Why is he smiling at me, instead of at Yuki Eiri?  
  
No. This isn't Shuichi. Shuichi isn't this. He's not so confident. Not so quiet. If this were Shu, by now he would be screaming.  
  
This is someone made up to -look- like Shindou Shuichi.  
  
I glance at Yuki Eiri. And besides the fact that he currently looks -fuzzy-, I can't discern any change in him whatsoever. He's not even looking at this -person- who just entered the room. He's just sitting there, eyeballing his beer.  
  
"You're Sakuma Ryuichi, aren't you?" That is -definitely- not Shuichi's voice. Shu-chan's voice is cotton candy and swimming pools. This person's voice is hot candle wax and pliant plastic. I should know. I have an ear for voices.  
  
Nonetheless, I'm transfixed. I may not even be breathing. The way he sways as he steps forward. The way his head tilts backward as he shakes his hair out of his face, exposing the most luscious expanse of throat. It's like he swallowed Shuichi whole and only lets the most sensuous parts escape.  
  
What is happening here? I don't...I can't...understand this... As he closes the door, my fingers tingle at the gush of air which runs over my skin, disco electric, spider web soft... The world is so beautiful, coated in a delicate veil of tenuous glamour. All my thoughts have just been sent to such a lovely oblivion.  
  
"Yes, I'm...Ryu..." I manage to squeak after -forever-.   
  
"You're even prettier in person," he says, kneeling diagonal from me at the table. Up close like this, if I concentrate, I can see the differences. His eyes are a little smaller than Shuichi's, his ears a little higher, his hands not quite as delicate. But, for some reason, my eyes refuse to stay completely focused. "I've brought you another drink."  
  
Is Yuki Eiri even -in- this room, anymore?   
  
Clink.   
  
Yup. That's the sound of his beer bottle on the table...I think.  
  
The fake Shuichi brings the glass to his mouth, catching the tiny red straw with his lips. His eyes close as he tastes the screwdriver, and he only opens them again as the straw slides back out. "Mmmm," he coos, placing the drink in front of me, "You know what they say about men who drink screwdrivers, Ryu-chan?"  
  
"Nnn..no. What?"  
  
"They are gods of desire trying to hide beneath the soft veneer of innocence. Just like the vodka hides behind the orange juice."   
  
I...can't...look...away. This creature is fascinating. Even though I know he isn't Shuichi. Even though I know Yuki Eiri is watching every millimeter of movement I make... I just...can't...look away.   
  
I can feel every inch of my own skin, from my toes to the top of my head, as if I've completely lost the ability to block out sensory input. Even this plain white cotton shirt feels filmy and slinky against my torso. Even my socks seem to be lapping at my toes with tiny tongues of feather.  
  
All I can think of is...  
  
Oh my GOD, what is this guy doing with his lips? He's biting his bottom one ever so lightly, letting it slip slowly from his teeth. I watch as the flesh pops back into place, full and plump, utterly succulent.   
  
I want to taste that.  
  
No. I can't do this. I won't do this. Yuki Eiri will know and then he'll think that Shu and I...that we...  
  
And then I feel it, my hand trapped between the cool table and infinite warmth. The imposter flicks his thumbnail against my wrist, bringing back a flood of memories of Shuichi's playful touches. Surprised, I look down at my imprisoned fingers, my shoulders going momentarily rigid as I flinch.  
  
This is wrong. This is wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.  
  
But...  
  
If I can't have Shuichi, can't I at least...  
  
There is breath against the side of my face. When I look up again, I find that the imposter has leaned in close, Tingles follow warmth, sliding up my jaw, as he heats my ear with teasing words. "Do I...remind you of someone, Ryuichi?"   
  
"I..." Something is caught in my throat. Oh, that's right, it's my sanity. How did it get -there-?  
  
I wonder how long it will be until Yuki Eiri draws his gun and puts me out of this beautiful misery.  
  
"It's alright," the imposter's voice purrs into my ear, causing my entire world to practically vibrate with intensity, "I can be...just who you want me to be. So, tell me."  
  
This time, I manage even less of a word. I merely expel a deep breath.  
  
And then I find myself sucking air back in as the fake Shuichi's lips graze gently against my earlobe. My entire ego is shocked into silence as Sakuma Ryuichi ceases to be.   
  
I'm simply...  
  
It's simply...so...  
  
I must have more. Please, more.  
  
Instinctively, I tilt my head, exposing my neck. I'm rewarded with trembling wisps of kisses all the way from my ear to my collarbone. Then he makes his way back up, more slowly, taking his time to dart his tongue out to taste my flesh. It's like a taser blast, shooting directly into my spine, ripping the last few still-slumbering nerve endings from their beds.   
  
And, oh, God help me, God forgive me...but, I moan.  
  
"Who am I...Ryu-chan?"  
  
Please, please...help me...  
  
"Just one word, and I can help you."  
  
Help me. I'm not strong enough...to keep myself...from...  
  
A tongue tracing my earlobe, tugging at my earrings, whispering urgent words into my soul. "Just say my name...and I will be real."   
  
I can't stop myself. I'm too weak. Even though Yuki Eiri is watching...I can't stop myself. I've failed you.  
  
And then, without warning, I hear myself whimper, "Shuichi. Please...please be...Shu..."  
  
These lips, pressing against mine, rewarding me, damning me, coax away all the pain. He catches my bottom lip, sliding it between his teeth, just as he did with his own. nibbling on it, worrying at it, luxuriously playful, temptingly wicked.   
  
This is Shuichi. This is Shuichi wanting me. This is Shuichi wanting me to want him.  
  
These are Shuichi's hands in my hair, pulling me closer. This is Shuichi's mouth, parting his lips, welcoming me with his tongue, inviting me to partake. Inviting me to the secret place, where I can forget...everything bad about myself, about the world. This is Shuichi making me perfect.   
  
Please, let it be true.  
  
I kiss him deeply, wanting everything at once, to taste, to smell, to feel. This is me, loving him, and betraying him, all in the same instant. As I dip my tongue into his mouth, seeking out all the wondrous treasures contained within, teeth, saliva, tongue, the slickness of the inner cheek, the roughness of the roof of the mouth, I only vaguely register the sound of Yuki Eiri's lighter.   
  
At that same instant, I finally recognize the taste that has been slowly absorbing into my tongue.  
  
He tastes...  
  
Distinctly...  
  
Of oranges.  
  
Although I know (or should have known, if I were rational) it's just the aftertaste from the sip of screwdriver, my eyes shoot open.  
  
Oranges. Oranges. Just like...  
  
Like Tomi.  
  
Oh my god, what have I done?  
  
This isn't Shuichi. And this isn't right. No, this is very...very...very wrong.   
  
I'm pushing him away, as horrified at the loss of my fantasy as I am at my own actions. I'm stumbling across the table, knocking things over, trying to find my feet, trying to get as far away from what I've done as possible. But, for some reason, I can't seem to make sense of the world. It's all colors and light, shapes and squiggles. I have to get away...from this...from the imposter and from...  
  
Yuki Eiri.  
  
Oh Shuichi... oh no, Shuichi, what have I done?  
  
"Where are you going, idiot? Get back here!" I no longer can move forward. I'm caught on...something. I struggle helplessly, unable to comprehend where the resistance is coming from. From very close by, Yuki Eiri says, "We're not finished talking yet, Sakuma."  
  
But the only word falling from my lips, over and over, is "Why?" Why did Yuki Eiri do this? Why did I fall for it? Why can't I be as strong as I want? Why did Tohma have to be right? Why did I... Why did I...have to be so greedy?  
  
I feel something at my back, a twisting sensation, and that is when I realize that Yuki Eiri has ahold of the back of my shirt. He leans in close, a demonic entity that I can't see, pushing a horrible voice into my brain, "You've slept with him, haven't you? I saw the way you flinched when your hand was touched."  
  
"No, I..."  
  
I feel myself being pushed forward, almost roughly. On the other hand, it could be Yuki Eiri is just trying to keep me upright. My knees are weak, and I don't think I could be standing on my own anymore. "Fine. If you want him, you can have him. When he goes to America, you go with him. And don't ever come back to Japan, either of you. Do you understand me, Sakuma? Don't -ever- bring Shuichi back to Japan. Say you understand."  
  
"I..." But, I don't understand. I don't want this to happen to Shuichi. "Yuki-san...why...WHY?"  
  
"Love," he says as his grip on my shirt loosens, allowing me to collapse, slowly, into a heap. I feel my cheek on the floor. I feel myself becoming a puddle of air. The last thing I hear before the world grows completely dim, is Yuki Eiri kneeling down next to me. And then, with his hand resting on my back, he continues, "Love is a horrible, intolerable thing. I don't want to see it."  
  
Blackness engulfs me, a maelstrom into a void. Nothingness, beautiful nothingness, takes me away from this nightmare as a whisper falls into my heart.  
  
"I don't want Shuichi's eyes...  
  
...haunting me."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Shit, he's a mess. Ten, will you run a bath? Shindou-san, if you could help me get him out of these clothes."  
  
I feel a tugging on my feet and hear distinct footsteps moving away from me.  
  
"Shit, shit, shit. What did you get yourself into, Sakuma-san?"  
  
Is that Molly? Is that her...cursing?  
  
"I think he's okay, Molly-san. Just a little dirty."  
  
A touch on my wrist. "His pulse is absolutely crazy." A hand on my forehead. "And he's burning up."  
  
"Should we call the doctor?"  
  
"No, Shindou-san, that would probably be a bad idea."  
  
How am I here? Is this a dream? Wasn't I just in that place...that bizarre restaurant...with Yuki Eiri...and...  
  
Shuichi.  
  
My eyes flutter open and then immediately close again. I regroup, and try once more. There's a lot of light in here. Buckets and buckets of light. Shadowy things move in the periphery of my vision. And...hm...yes, this is the back of my couch I see, and beyond it, my blue walls painted like sky. The blood pulsing through my veins feels like tiny grains of sugar in syrup. Sugar blood.  
  
"You're awake!" Shuichi's face, the -real- Shuichi's face, hovers over mine, smiling widely, "Can you hear me, Ryu-chan?"  
  
Damn. I have to bite my tongue as a flood of needs, wants, visions, memories, joys, and fears all flood into my brain at the same time. What have I done, Shuichi? What horrible things...that I didn't even know I was capable of doing? The Pandora's Box that I have opened can never be closed again.   
  
"Can you see me?"  
  
I try to reply, but the words become a strangled gurgle in my throat. Shuichi is really, really, really pretty, na no da. If the fake one was nice, I can't even imagine what it would be like to...  
  
No, stop. STOP!  
  
I find myself recoiling from Shuichi, pushing my head back into the cushion of the couch, trying to will myself to not think about his lips at all.  
  
"Ryu-chan?"  
  
I finally manage a dry whisper from between parched lips. Geez, I'm thirsty. "Shu...Shu..." I murmur it over and over as he wraps his arms around me, giving me a tight hug. His face crushes into my neck, reminding me of the kisses someone else placed there what seems like only minutes ago.  
  
"I was so worried about you," he says, his voice tiny and scared, which makes me feel even smaller and -more- scared. He pulls away, but grabs my hand and continues to babble, "We were all so worried about you. Molly-san looked everywhere for you. She couldn't find you anywhere. She talked to that friend of yours at SCCD's, who said you'd been there, but after that you disappeared. And we...I just didn't know what to do, Ryuichi, I didn't know what to do."  
  
"How did I...get here? I don't...remember anything."  
  
"We don't know. The concierge got an anonymous phone call that said you were outside. When he went and looked, you were passed out against the front of the building, clutching two bags from SCCD's."  
  
Well, at least Yuki Eiri had the decency not to alert Shuichi to his presence. This, unfortunately, doesn't make my encounter with him any less confusing.  
  
"Where were you, Ryuichi? Where did you go? I thought you left, like you didn't like me anymore and I was troubling you by being here and I thought you were mad at me, maybe..."  
  
"No, Shu, that's not it at -all-. I..."  
  
What can I tell him? 'I was mugged and almost beaten with a baseball bat by the lead singer of one of your favorite bands. And then, I was rescued by your gun-wielding ex-boyfriend, only to be kidnapped and driven across town. Once there, he showed me a sexy replica of you, which I, like an idiot, kissed, destroying any hope of your lover coming back to you, because now he thinks we're sleeping together.' I can't say that! I can't tell him the truth! But, it is -far- too hard to lie to Shuichi. So, instead, I just stare at him, watching as his smile slowly slips away, watching as he realizes something is wrong. Or, at least, more wrong than he previously assumed.  
  
Thankfully, my personal assistant comes to the rescue.   
  
"Shindou-san, would you go help Ten with the bath? And maybe find Sakuma-san's robe, too, please?"  
  
"Okie doke!" (How is it that he can immediately go from looking forlorn to being completely genki? Oh wait, I do that, too.)  
  
Shuichi hops up, disappearing from view for only a moment before returning. He presses a familiar friend into the crook of my arm. "Kumagoro and I," Shuichi says, pulling off the most reassuring smile imaginable, "Are so glad you're home."  
  
As Shuichi leaves, Kumagoro starts in on me, too. Where did I go? What did I do? Why didn't I bring him anything? Why is my arm so warm?  
  
I can only groan and turn my head to the side. The room spins around, like I'm on skates in a roller rink. Even though Kumagoro says my arm is hot, my flesh feels clammy and cold. I must be sweating.   
  
I see Molly's face swim into view. She's sitting on the coffee table, looking down at me, her lips pursed, her eyebrows wrinkled in concern. "Sakuma-san," she says quietly, putting her fingers against my wrist once again, "I'm not angry, okay? But, I have to know what you took."  
  
"Ww...what?"  
  
"It's no good, Ryuichi. I know you are on something. Your pupils are dilated, your heart is racing... I know all the signs." Molly's face contracts, as if she is fighting tears or at least the urge to yell at me. "You said you weren't doing this anymore. You can't do this anymore. Do you want to end up in the hospital again?"  
  
Possibly. At least they don't really make me -think- in the hospital.   
  
"But, I didn't take anything, Molly, I swear. I swear on Kumagoro's ears, I didn't."  
  
"Please don't lie, Sakuma-san."  
  
"I just had one drink, na no da, that's all."  
  
Molly's eyes narrow as she leans forward, placing her hand on my shoulder. "Where did you get the alcohol, Ryuichi?"  
  
I'm shivering now. I wrap my arms around myself as my teeth grind. I can't stop my jaw from clenching and unclenching. "Someone...gave...me..."  
  
And, then I finally realize...  
  
Yuki Eiri put something in my drink. He drugged me.  
  
What can I say?   
  
I'm slow, sometimes.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I'm naked, and very cold. It's bright in here. My stomach feels a bit queasy. But none of this discomfort can compare with the things I see when I close my eyes. I don't want to close my eyes, not at all.  
  
"Okay, Sakuma-san, into the tub."   
  
I don't move, because I can't, really. So, Ten grabs me by my upper arm and helps me into the bath. Oh, much warmer. There's lots of fluffy bubbles, which pop against my skin, making me grind my teeth even more.   
  
Shuichi comes in, carrying a load of fluffy purple towels. "Ooo, bubblebath! Fun." He sits down on the closed toilet after putting his load of towels on the counter. "I'll sit with him, Ten-san," Shuichi says to my rather worried looking bodyguard.   
  
Ten grunts in response, though not particularly angrily, and leaves after bending over to whisper a few things to Shuichi. Probably something like 'Don't let him drown,' I'm guessing.  
  
Oh, I feel sorta floaty.  
  
After Ten leaves, Shuichi begins to hum. It's a song I don't recognize for once, something windy and cheerful. Unable to sit still, he goes over and re-positions Kuma-chan on the shelf.  
  
I just don't know what to say to him. I can't think straight, not that I ever really can. But, right now, my thoughts are just jumping all over the place.   
  
Yuki-san drugged me. Yuki-san...said a lot of mean things but...I think maybe he's...hurting, somehow. He wouldn't have set all that up if he didn't want to find out about... Which means he's jealous, maybe. And, if he's jealous, it means he still wants Shuichi. And even if he's angry now because I'm in love with Shu, it still doesn't explain why he hurt Shuichi in the first place. Or why it seems so important to him that -both- Shuichi and I leave Japan...  
  
Why couldn't I have been a robot, instead of a rock singer? Robots don't have emotions. And besides, giant robots can shoot lasers out of their eyes. If I had that, people would definitely tell me the truth, or I'd fry them where they stood.  
  
"You feeling a little better?" Shuichi asks, sitting back down on the closed toilet. I have an American-style bathroom, by the way, very luxurious. If you're going to do anything with your money, I say, get a good bathroom. Because, when you're up all night vomiting, an American toilet is much more comfortable to lean on than a Japanese one.  
  
"Shuichi, I..." I close my eyes. I don't want to look. But the visions swimming in my head force me to open my eyes once again. "I did something bad."  
  
Shuichi slides off the toilet onto his knees. With a small smile, he dislodges my hand, which had been previously clutching the side of the tub. Slipping his fingers through mine, he whispers, "That's okay. We all do, sometimes, you know. We all fuck up."  
  
"No, Shu, you don't understand..."  
  
"Shh," he says, leaning down to press his cheek against my fingers. Wow. That's even softer than the bubbles. He's got to use some sort of face cream, because it's just unnatural for skin to be that soft. "Right now, you don't have to worry about anything. Tonight, we're not going to think about that. I give you permission, okay? Permission not to worry for one night. You can tell me what happened tomorrow, or the next day, whenever you feel better."  
  
And this is why I adore you, Shindou Shuichi.   
  
Because after you said that, after you forgave me for worrying you, without so many words, after you lifted the burden from my shoulders like it didn't weigh anything at all, after you smiled like you hadn't just been dragged through ditches full of emotional razor blades over the past few days...  
  
You winked at me, and said...  
  
"Well, if you are all on drugs and stuff, we might as well have fun. How about some hot chocolate?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
***In Our Next Chapter: A hangover to end all hangovers. Hiro shows up. And then, just as it seems like everything is calming down, there's a knock on the door in the middle of the night. Seguchi Tohma is a mess. Will Ryuichi turn him away? Or will he go to the one place he hates more than any other, just to help a man with whom he's ended his friendship? In the next chapter of Pianissimo Butterfly, the truth is finally revealed. And Ryuichi learns that one man can love someone, with such incredible completeness, to go to any lengths to save him. A love that transcends mortality, a love...that would make Tomi proud.  
  
***Author Notes:  
  
The next chapter isn't the last chapter, but it may be the second to the last, depending on how verbose I am.   
  
This chapter was a lot of fun to write. I'm pretty sure the next chapter is going to be hellish, so it may take a while.   
  
I got the chapter 5 review responses up on my webpage, but I haven't done chapter 6 or 7's yet. I should get around to them early in the week, though. (I hope.) Please forgive me for falling behind on that. I've been trying to crank out the fic at a speed that keeps everyone interested. Please don't think that I'm ignoring you, it isn't like that at all. I -adore- your reviews, and I am so thankful to everyone who keeps reading, despite how confusing the story can be at times. So, a thousand thank-yous to you all from me...and the Ryuichi in my head.  
  
***Glossary:  
  
Ano: Um.  
  
Genki: Energetic/healthy. Full of bounce. 


	9. Circles In A Circle

  
  
**Chapter 9: Circles In A Circle**

* * *

Ow. Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow.   
  
OWIE OWIE.  
  
I'm never doing drugs again.  
  
Wait, I didn't do them on purpose in the first place. I hate you, Yuki Eiri. I hate you and your little noxious cigarettes, too. I hope someone drops a house on you.  
  
Yeah, I feel kinda like the Wicked Witch of the West looks.   
  
Green and infinitely gross.  
  
The way I feel rather reminds me of the day after I snorted three lines of crushed Lorcet and followed them with three bumps of Ketamine. But, I don't do that anymore. Not for a long time. Not since Tomi told me that it was bad for me. The only thing that should go up your nose is air, he said, or else your brain wigs out and starts eating itself. He didn't say anything about pills, though. I kinda wish he would have warned me about those, too.  
  
There were so many pretty pills, just like M&Ms, in pastels and rainbows. Baby blue is for Valium, and there's simple white of Vicodin. Pink Darvocet, as pink as Kumagoro, pinker even. Ecstasy comes in any color you want. You can have it to match your outfit, to match your eyes. Just like Dorothy, yes, a free ticket to the shining Emerald City of your choice. Percocet, and Zydone, Staydol and Dilaudid. Anything to numb the pain. Opiates. Poppies. Red poppies to forget and red poppies to sleep. Red poppies spilling slick onto the floor, gushing out of me like an orgasm of my own blood.  
  
Which is, really, where I'd like to be right about now. Instead of this aching, grinding, horrible pain consuming my body like a vindictive plague.  
  
Alright, I might be exaggerating just a -bit-. But. It. Hurts!  
  
Sometime this morning, after spending about an hour clutching my nice American toilet, I crawled back into my room, and kicked Shuichi -out- of my bed. That's how bad I feel. I don't even want Shuichi here. I don't want anything touching me. Even my zillion thread count Portuguese sheets hurt me.  
  
Besides, I don't really want Shuichi in here while I moan and cry. He'll feel bad for me, and that will make me feel worse for making him worry. I think he understands, though.  
  
Yes, Yuki-san, I get the point. I get the point. No more drugs. Were you trying to teach me a lesson? Well, it was a fucking pointless lesson, because I was doing pretty good avoiding drugs and alcohol on my own. Well, okay, I did have some champagne this week, but that's not even really alcohol. It doesn't count.   
  
Kumagoro, how did I get myself into this situation?  
  
Nevermind, I really don't want to hear your opinions today.  
  
Ugh, my head hurts. This is the problem with most drugs. They make the world very nice, but then you have to take more of them or else you feel crappy afterwards. Feeling crappy sucks. It just sucks.  
  
I flop over in my bed, trying to combat tears. I wish I could go back to sleep. Sleeping it off sounds like a good idea. I must be getting old, for it to get to me this badly. I'm just going to have to eventually admit that I'm not eighteen anymore.  
  
No. No.  
  
I don't want to be 'old people' Ryuichi. You admit you're getting older, and it just goes downhill from there.  
  
I mean, it is true that Shuichi is more than ten years younger than me, but what does that matter? I'm still in good shape, aren't I? I don't have lots of wrinkles, and people tell me I am sexy all the time. But, maybe they aren't really looking at me. Maybe they are thinking of the Ryuichi of five or ten years ago, and just projecting his image onto what remains of that person.   
  
I'm all washed up. I'm just a has-been. I don't even have a band anymore. No band. No prospective future career. No Tomi. I fucked up my chance to get Shuichi back together with Yuki. I practically told my best friend to go to hell. Kumagoro is mad at me for acting like an idiot all the time. I'm obscenely hung over, and to top it all off, I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO DRIVE.  
  
I mean, seriously, even people with no legs can learn to drive.  
  
I just suck.  
  
Hey, this pillow smells like Shuichi's hair. Mmmmm, that's nice. Even Kumagoro kinda smells like Shuichi now. I guess that's not such a bad consolation prize after everything else I've fucked up or lost.   
  
And when I close my eyes, I see it yet again, the very moment, the very instant, when I betrayed Shuichi. Electric ecstasy exciting my every sense. Wanton and wasteful, fantastic but forbidden, teasing and taunting and trapping me with lust. My grubby, grimy, greedy hands stuck in the cookie jar. Just for one taste of an illusion as sweet as sugar melting on the tongue.  
  
I deserve to hurt. I deserve to be hurt by Shuichi. I hope he laughs at me. I hope he crushes me underfoot just like I did to so many others.  
  
But, I know he won't. Thankfully, that will only torture me more.  
  
"Ryuichi?"  
  
Huh? I lift my head off the pillow, my sweat-drenched hair plastered to my forehead and cheeks. Molly is really going to have to get these sheets washed later. Shuichi's head is just barely peeking into my room, a little tendril of pink caught in his eyelashes.   
  
Oh, what I wouldn't give to be a valiant eyelash protecting such sparkling eyes from the sun.  
  
"Um, I brought you some water and some food. Molly-san says that it might help your headache a little."  
  
"Yeah, okay." I pull myself up, with a great deal of effort, into a sitting position. Shuichi comes over to sit on the edge of the bed, and hands me the water, and then a plastic cup of chocolate putting with a spoon in it.   
  
"It's a little trick Yuki taught me," Shuichi says, taking the glass back after I sip, "When I had the flu. Chocolate pudding doesn't taste as bad coming back up. You know, in case you feel queasy again."  
  
Yuki-san took care of Shuichi when he had the flu? Somehow, I find that very hard to believe. But, they have been together now for more than two years. I guess there has to be -some- reason why Shuichi likes Yuki, even if I can't, for the life of me, really figure out what it is.   
  
Then again, Tohma was always saying he could never figure out why I loved someone as boring as Tomi. But, Tomi wasn't really boring. He was just...calming. He was the rock I could hold onto when I couldn't help but be a storm. I'd never really had anything like that, anything keeping me in place, keeping me still, before Tomi. And after he died, I never found anything like it again.  
  
And now, now I want so badly to hold onto Shuichi. Before I slip away, before the winds blow me far from shore. The sea is endless, and lonely. And when the winds die down, I can only look down from the sky above and see my own reflection looking back at me in the placid waters of the ocean. I can only cry and cry until the storm clouds in my heart are bereft of tears, until the rain pounds into the water and dissolves the one face with which I do not want to be alone: my own. I can only cry until the clouds are no more, and the sun is free to shine again.  
  
Everyone wants something to hold onto, don't they? It's only natural, isn't it? And it isn't bad to want, is it?   
  
Am I bad? Am I a bad person?  
  
If Tohma is right, Shuichi will leave me, eventually. I don't know if I will be able to deal with that, with losing what I have wanted for so long, an anchor, a rock. It barely brushed against my fingertips as I strained with hand outstretched, and then fled from my touch. The cookie jar pulled away, my illusion ripped from me, like a limb. That's what they say, isn't it? "An eye for a lie, a tooth for the truth?"  
  
I'll be crushed...if...when...he leaves me.  
  
And this time, this time there will be no Tohma to come and pull me out of the bathtub.  
  
"I'm sorry I kicked you out of my bed this morning, Shu," I say between bites of pudding. It slides down my throat, coating the dryness with sticky sweet chocolate. "Are you mad?"  
  
"Nah. I understand. I hope you don't mind but I stole some of those magazines you bought and I've been reading them. There's a great interview with the lead singer of Tsunami Puppets in Music Splash this month."  
  
Won...der...ful.  
  
"He just goes on and on about how you were his inspiration for their last album."  
  
Lovely.  
  
"I think maybe he has a crush on you, a little. I mean, a lot of people do, it seems."  
  
Kill. Me. Now.  
  
Okay, I've decided. I can absolutely -never- tell Shuichi about what happened yesterday. That's not lying, is it? It's more like 'omission of truth', which isn't lying as much as -protecting-. I am protecting Shuichi. And so, yes, maybe it does also benefit -me- because then Shuichi won't know that I completely ruined his chances with Yuki Eiri, but he's already coming to terms with that, so it doesn't really matter, does it?  
  
"It must be really great to know you inspire others. I mean, as if making wonderful music isn't enough, you cause others to make enjoyable music, too." Even though my head is pounding, absolutely throbbing, I can't take my eyes off of Shuichi. Is he glowing? Is he giving off light? How does he do it? How does he go on all the while bearing such remarkable pain? "I hope someday I can also inspire people, maybe."  
  
I don't know what to say. I want to say 'Shuichi, because of your singing, I originally re-formed Nittle Grasper. You inspire me, simply and truly. Your voice is like pure sunshine, breaking through the storm clouds in my heart.' But, I'm not exactly that eloquent so, I just say, "Oh, I got you something, na no da!"  
  
"Really? A present?"  
  
I nod and, after handing Shuichi the pudding cup, throw myself to the other side of the bed. This isn't exactly a good move since it just makes my vision go kinda dark, but I shake it off. Rummaging around, I find my prize and pop back up, more slowly, to hand Shuichi the bracelet I bought.  
  
"Oh, it's fuzzy!" Shuichi giggles while I take his hand and snap the band onto his wrist. His titter causes his hair to shake, and I imagine each lock tipped with invisible bells, jingling and chiming just outside the range of the human ear. "It tickles a little."  
  
"Do you like it, na no da?"  
  
"Yup! It's very cool. Thanks."  
  
"Um..." I'm exactly seventeen years old, again. I'm just trying to keep my cool while waiting behind the stadium, a CD clutched to my chest, my eyes on the metal door where one of my music idols should soon emerge. The line between raging fanboy and rock star is about as thin as the line between friend and lover. "Shuichi, would you...um..."  
  
"Oh, you have a copy of 'Critical Sunshine'? I didn't think you...you know...listened to that sort of stuff."   
  
I reach into my nightstand and pull out a paint pen. Gold. That'll work. I hand it to Shuichi, not exactly looking at him. Kumagoro smiles at me. He thinks this is a good idea, too. Maybe Shuichi will understand what I am trying to say.   
  
"You want -me- to sign this for -you-?"  
  
I nod as Kuma-chan climbs into my lap. Shuichi's question makes me feel just a little bit ridiculous. But, seeing as how I go through most of my life being perceived as mildly ridiculous by others, I guess I will survive.  
  
"Um, okay," Shuichi says, popping the pen lid off with his teeth. He holds it there, in the corner of his mouth, while he asks, "You want it to say anything in particular?"  
  
"Nah...just...whatever."  
  
The paint pen squeaks a little as Shuichi writes. He seems to stop for a moment, making a soft "Hm" noise in the back of his throat before finishing. Afterwards, he blows softly on the paint to make sure it is dried before handing the CD back to me. "Okay, here you go."  
  
"Thanks, Shu-chan, you're the best."  
  
"No problem. Anyway, I'll let you get back to sleep now, okay?" Shu hops off the bed and heads for the door, his hair bouncing in time to the swing of his lithe hips. Little baby bird hips. Feathery hair like the wings of a hummingbird...  
  
I'm suddenly struck with immense fear as I recall my dream of crows and butterflies.  
  
Maybe Shuichi isn't...at all...who I think he is.  
  
Maybe the one person I've trusted, this whole time, is the one of which I should have been wary. What do I really know about Shuichi, anyway?  
  
Looking down at the CD in my hand, I read the haiku Shuichi has written. And then I know, I know that I am wrong. Shuichi is just Shuichi. He can't be anything else.  
  
"Eclipsed by a storm...  
  
The butterflies wait, once more...  
  
To behold the sun."

* * *

"You're going to get a stomachache if you keep eating ice cream like that."  
  
I think I already have one. And a headache, too. I must have eaten too fast. The pounding in my head seems to be keeping time with the sound of waves crashing against something, like pulsing radio static made of water.  
  
"Why don't you open your eyes, Ryuichi? You have such pretty eyes. I never get tired of them."  
  
"If I open my eyes, the sea will make me dizzy," I reply.  
  
"Yes, but everything makes you dizzy. Remember the time when we were making out and you fell off the couch? You're a man cursed with perpetual vertigo of the soul."  
  
Tomi.  
  
I do open my eyes, immediately. I'm sitting on a bench on some seaside boardwalk, somewhere. I think maybe it's Yokohama. The wind zips off the water and fills my lungs with the smell of salt and fish, and surprisingly, hotdogs. Little sailboats with crisp triangles of sails rake through the rolling water. Ugh. Rolling water.  
  
"Well, don't look at it, if it makes you queasy," Tomi says. I look at him, instead of the water, and find that he's wearing a giant Kumagoro costume and eating a hotdog. Well, at least I know where the smell came from. Tomi has a great big grin on his face, his blue eyes crinkled up at the edges with immeasurable mirth. He looks so good like this, sitting up by himself, eating by himself, here once again with me. I toss the banana split I've apparently been eating onto the sidewalk and throw myself into his arms.  
  
"Tomiiiiiii." Yes, it does appear that I can squeal -exactly- like Shuichi. "Missed you soooo much."  
  
"I missed you, Ryu-kochou. I missed you, too." Oversized pink paws pat my back gently, "But, I'm here now. You're okay. And, everything will be alright, na no da."  
  
He smells so good, and not at all like I remembered. Fresh like the sea and tinged with mint. I grind my nose into his chest, just trying to fill my lungs with every last ounce of Tomi. Except, well, he's wearing a Kumagoro costume, so I mostly get a nose full of fluff.  
  
"What's with the costume, Tomi?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know," he replies with a chuckle, prying my face out of his chest, "You tell me. It's your dream, Ryuichi. And, while you're at it, you might explain the hotdog and the banana. Talk about mixing up sex and lunch..."  
  
"Ooo, is it one of -those- dreams?" I straddle Tomi's legs and wiggle my eyebrows in the most lascivious manner possible. "I like those dreams."  
  
"Well," Tomi puts his arms around my shoulders and pulls me forward until our foreheads touch, "I don't think that's why you brought me here, is it?"  
  
"Your breath smells like hotdog."  
  
Tomi purses his lips in a small pout as he leans against the back of the bench. "Ryu, time for playing is over. You have to get serious."  
  
"Okay, it -seriously- smells like hotdog."  
  
Shaking his head, Tomi slips off the Kumagoro gloves and takes my hands in his. He has big awkward hands, just like the rest of his body, so gangly and seemingly clumsy. But, he holds my fingers quite steady. It's very reassuring, really. "Don't you have something you want to tell me?"  
  
I want to hug him, to plaster my body to his and never, ever let go again. But, Tomi holds me firmly in place. Shyly, I turn my gaze from his hands to his eyes, swimmingly blue, electric blue...  
  
Ocean blue.   
  
And then, then I know...  
  
All this time, all this time that I've been alone, staring into the sea which I thought held nothing but my own reflection looking back at me, Tomi has been there. I've been searching for him at the bottom of the ocean, plunging myself in again and again, drowning myself purposefully in sorrow just to find Tomi. But, the whole time, he's been here.  
  
Every tear that I let fall is just one more drop of Tomi I can never get back. And, all those tears have gathered together to make an ocean.   
  
Nobody can hold the ocean, and I can't hold Tomi, not for real, but I can know that he will never go anywhere. No matter where this little storm cloud is blown...  
  
The waves of the ocean will continue to cheer for me.  
  
"Tomi, I think I am in love with someone."  
  
"I know, little pancake, I know." He lifts our hands and rubs the back of his knuckles lightly against my cheeks, "And I want you to find love. As much as you can. I want you to have so much love that it makes you glow from within. But, Ryuichi, what is love? Is it getting what you want, merely because you want it? Is it tossing away friendships just because someone has done something to displease you? Is there love in hurting yourself or hurting others? And, Ryuichi..."  
  
I feel my hands drop back down into my lap. Tomi's fingers skitter through my hair, brushing it away from my eyes.  
  
"...Can love be replaced? No. It never can. Love is like little pints of ice cream. There are dozens and dozens of wonderful flavors. When one is gone, it does no good to sit and mope about it. And it does no good to expect the other flavors to taste anything like the first. But, I've never had an ice cream I didn't like. Have you?"  
  
I smile. How does he know...exactly what to say? I guess that's why I loved him. No. That's why I love him still.   
  
"Probably wouldn't like hotdog ice cream."  
  
"No, I suppose not, na no da. Or spinach either." Tomi wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. I feel so much better now. Not queasy. Not dizzy. No headache at all. Just still. And I can't hear the waves anymore. Or the wind. There's just my breathing, and Tomi's, and the very faint sound of a solitary cello that plays just for us.  
  
"Remember when I told you the story of the butterfly and the crow, Ryu-chan? You always hated that story, didn't you?"  
  
"It was the worst one you ever came up with, na no da. Such a mean story! The butterfly and the crow both get killed! What kind of children's story is -that- supposed to be?"  
  
"Ah, but popsicle," Tomi whispers, bringing his lips to just above my ear, "I re-wrote it just for you, don't you remember? You never remember anything, do you?"  
  
Now it is my turn to pout. Alright, I am a bit forgetful, but I remember a lot of stuff. I mean, really...  
  
Remembering stuff is Kumagoro's job.  
  
"Think hard," Tomi says, stroking the back of my neck with his forefinger, just like someone might do the wing of a hummingbird.  
  
Hummingbird!  
  
"That's right. When the horde of butterflies came to kill the crow, they couldn't find him. It was because the butterfly he swallowed, the butterfly he loved, fused with his soul. He became half bird and half butterfly. He was a hummingbird. Is that right, Tomi?"  
  
"Yes, that's right."  
  
"But, what does it mean?"  
  
"Oh, Ryu-chan. You'll have to figure that out on your own. But, you can do it. You're a lot smarter and stronger than you give yourself credit for. Now..." Tomi's lips curve into a crooked but rather sultry smile, "Give me a kiss, please. I want to taste your banana split, na no da."  
  
"Oooo, cheeky. I thought this wasn't one of those kinds of dreams."  
  
"Well silly, it is all in -your- head, you know."  
  
Oh.  
  
Oooooh.  
  
Goody, goody, gumdrops.  
  
It turns out that I like hotdogs with ice cream, after all.

* * *

I wake up feeling about nine million percent better. Can you have nine million percents? I consult Kumagoro, since he always was better at math, but he just shrugs.  
  
Alright, seven million, then.  
  
Hm. There are...voices...coming from the direction of my living room...  
  
"You'll like Los Angeles, though. I went there with Ayaka last year, remember? It's really great. There's dance clubs, great fashion, and lots of movie stars and...uh... Well, it's a lot like Tokyo, actually, but with American people instead of Japanese."  
  
I sit up in bed. That's Hiroshi-kun. Oh yeah. I forgot he was coming to visit Shuichi today. Ugh. Stupid, stupid brain. Why didn't you remind me, Kumagoro?  
  
You forgot too? We -must- be getting old.  
  
"I'd rather just stay here, though," Shuichi replies quietly. Well, I agree with him there. America -is- great, but I'm not ready to go back yet.  
  
"Maybe it will be good for you, Shu. Getting away from Japan might help, a little. We can throw ourselves into the new album, without any distractions. And if we do really well, Seguchi-san won't have any choice but to bring us back to Japan."  
  
I stand up and check to make sure that, yes, I am dressed. Alright, I'm not exactly presentable. Kumagoro suggests a quick run to the bathroom for some teeth-brushing and a quick shower. I have to agree.  
  
What is it about water that can make you feel so much more -alive-? Sometimes, I think people are a lot more like plants than we realize. A little water, a little air, a little sunshine, and wilting limbs can perk right up. If I were a plant, I think I'd be a hanging philodendron. Because 'philodendron' is a fun word to say, and I bet the hanging ones get dizzy, too.   
  
Shuichi would be a poppy flower, I think. Playful and bright, but strangely dangerous to those who become addicted. Yuki Eiri seems like the cactus type. Not because of the thorns, but more because he seems to hold everything inside, like a cactus holds water.   
  
Tohma would be a Venus Fly Trap.  
  
Squint.  
  
I think Tomi would be a fern, just a common Boston fern, a friendly sort of plant that you can talk to and feel less alone. Molly would be a simple, but genial daisy...  
  
And my bodyguard would be a massive California Redwood re-transplanted by aliens to the planet Neptune.  
  
I don't know what Hiroshi-kun would be. I should ask him later.  
  
So, I wash all the appropriate bits as I sing the 'shower song' with Kumagoro. I think things are really going to look up from here on out. I'm going to try to really think hard on what Tomi said in my dream, which, I suppose, is actually what I told -myself-, since it is all in my head. But, really, it is just so much more simpler to think about it as coming from Tomi.  
  
I've got to get serious. Seriously serious. Extra serious. Godzilla serious.  
  
On the other hand, I'm mildly relieved that Hiroshi is here. As long as he stays, Shuichi won't ask me what happened yesterday, and I won't be forced to lie to him. I'll have a bit of time to think, to mentally organize my plan of attack. I mean, Tomi has faith in me to figure this all out, so I should be able to do it, right?  
  
Tomi never asked me to do anything I couldn't do.  
  
RIGHT! You and me Kumagoro. We're soldiers in the War Against Confusion and Apathy. We're Brigadier Generals in the Crusade of Love! We're Nuclear Bombs of Shiny Shiny ready to Irradiate Happiness into any sad lumps of humanity that get in our way!!  
  
Okay, yeah, you're right, I did go a bit far with the nuclear bomb one.  
  
What's that? Camouflage pants and combat boots? Excellent choice, Kumagoro. You've still got the touch, my friend. Kumagoro, can you wear a frilly white shirt with camouflage pants? Okay. Good. I mean, just because you're in a war doesn't mean you have to become a fashion criminal.  
  
Kuma-chan and I get dressed and march out into the living room.   
  
Oh yes.  
  
Have no fear...  
  
Ryuichi and Kumagoro are here.  
  
Our butts are in gear...  
  
'Cause we're not going to take this goddamn shit anymore.

* * *

Actually, Shuichi and Hiro just laughed at me. They kept teasing me, asking if I've joined up with the Gucci Army in the hopes of laying siege and bringing carnage to the runways of Milan. But, it was really all in fun, so I laughed along.  
  
We had a really great afternoon, na no da. Hiroshi-kun -really- knows how to make Shuichi laugh, and how to put him in the -best- mood. I think it did good for Shuichi to have someone to talk to, someone who has a different viewpoint on things.   
  
Someone who isn't a Ryuichi or a Kumagoro.  
  
Shuichi cooked lunch for us, too. He's really such a good cook. I guess he learned it from Yuki-san, maybe. It's hard for me to think of Yuki subsisting on much besides beer and cigarettes, but I guess he has to eat, too. After lunch, we had some of the chocolate cheesecake Molly brought over from the Parisian bakery I like.  
  
We even sat around and jammed for a while. That was really more fun than I can possibly describe. Shu-chan sang, and Hiro played guitar. I mostly played bass and did some backup vocals for Shuichi. It was strange playing without a keyboardist, for once. I guess I could have done keyboard, but the only one I have is the one Tohma gave me to compose on...  
  
The one Tohma taught me to play on...  
  
And that just had too many icky memories. And this afternoon was a strictly -no- bad memories zone.  
  
This is not to say that I'm completely ignoring the "situation". While I am playing bass, I'm planning, plotting, oh yes, the wheels are turning in Sakuma Ryuichi's head. I'm focused. Sharp as fire. Hot as a tack.  
  
Sigh. You know what I mean.  
  
AHEM! Please listen up. Item the -first-. As soon as humanly possible, I need to speak to K. If anyone can figure out a way to convince Tohma to -not- send Shuichi to America, it would be K.   
  
Item the -second-. After that, I need to speak to Nori-chan. I'll tell her how I fucked up at that bizarre restaurant with that fake Shuichi. Certainly, she'll have some good advice. And if she doesn't, I'm pretty sure she'll slap me around until whatever good neurons I have left fire and form a useful idea.  
  
Item the -fourth-...  
  
What do you mean, third, Kumagoro? This is the fourth one.  
  
No. The third one was the Noriko thing.  
  
Please don't stop me, I'm on a roll here.  
  
Item the -fourth-, Shuichi can absolutely -not- sleep in my bed anymore.   
  
Item the -fifth-, I can not sleep in -his- bed anymore, either.  
  
Item the...oh...  
  
Oh no...  
  
Oh, Shuichi, why do you have to sing like that? That's not swimming pools in summer, that's an ocean. Please don't go into the ocean, Shuichi. I can't go in there and pull you out. I don't want to drown again. I'm going to fix everything. It's going to be alright, and you don't have to be sad, because I'm going to fix it. I can fix everything! No matter how many broken pieces...  
  
No. Please don't...don't...  
  
Please don't sing Shining Collection like that, not like that...  
  
Don't sing it like an elegy, like a requiem for the funeral of sound.  
  
Please...  
  
I look down at the bass guitar in my hands. It's baby blue, the least expensive one I own, but...  
  
It's only a replica.  
  
It's just a replacement of the one Tomi gave me.   
  
And, no matter how much I tune it and tweak it...  
  
It just never sounds quite the same as the first.

* * *

After Hiroshi-kun left to catch his late plane back to Whatever Island, Shuichi decided to go to bed. (Hiro did pull me aside, briefly, and thanked me for looking after Shuichi. I'm supposed to call him if anything else bad happens.) Anyway, Shuichi looked very tired, and I can understand why. He stayed up late last night waiting for me, and then had to get up early when I kicked him out of bed.  
  
Plus, singing like -that- is horribly draining. It's a lot like crying, except the tears come out of your mouth instead of your eyes.   
  
Shuichi went to bed. To -my- bed. And I, I did not stop him. How could I?   
  
Tomorrow. I will -definitely- talk to him about that -tomorrow-.  
  
Or the next day.  
  
Maybe.  
  
No, I will. I really will.  
  
So, here I am, sitting on the couch in my pajamas with my feet up, an English rhyming dictionary on my lap, trying to come up with matches for 'philodendron'.  
  
I think "dodecahedron" might be -close-, but I have no idea how to write a song involving both philodendrons -and- dodecahedrons.  
  
Hm? Well, yes, it would be much simpler just to write a song about poppies, Kumagoro. But, do we really want to promote drugs with our songs? Even obscurely?  
  
What am I doing? I don't even have a band anymore, and I'm still sitting here writing songs. What else am I supposed to do? Type up my resume and send it over to the Softy Tasty? Apply to teach choir to sixth graders? I mean, I adore kids, but there is only so much discordant ear-piercing singing one man can take.   
  
Writing lyrics. Singing. This is what I have done for more than a decade. What else can I do?  
  
And I have to do something. I have to do -something-. Complete retirement is just too depressing to think about.  
  
I could work on my solo career again.  
  
Ahahahahahaha. I kill me.  
  
I have no delusions about that. If I try to get on another label as a solo artist, Tohma will use his connections to blacklist me at every studio from here to St. Petersburg.  
  
I sigh and look up at my Kandinsky print. Did you know that Kandinsky had a theory about art? He thought that just by putting his passion, his emotion, his love into his painting, that he could heal people. He thought that if they could just see his love for the world, the beauty he beheld, the awe and wonder of it all, that he could mend their hearts from afar.   
  
This one, it is called 'Circles In A Circle'. So many colors, like pulsing spheres gathered together, loving one another, sharing the true beauty of their souls. Dozens of little candy hued bubbles, one second from popping, rubbing up against each other, sliding their sultry curves around in a game of seduction, trying to press into one another. Small bubbles trying to make love. Large bubbles radiating mirth and joy.  
  
Yes. I like this painting.  
  
On the other hand, sometimes it just reminds me of a flashy disco.  
  
And flashy clubs remind me of 'Double Glitz'.  
  
And 'Double Glitz' reminds me of...  
  
My thought is cut off by a knock on the door, a gentle tapping, which puts me in the mind of Tomi's beloved Edgar Allen Poe. 'Tis some visitor,' I think, 'gently rapping, tapping at my chamber door.'  
  
Thank -god- ravens don't know how to use elevators.  
  
I hope.  
  
Who could it be this late at night? Ten, maybe, coming to check on me? Molly with something important to sign? Eh, probably so.  
  
I hop up and bounce across the room, feeling refreshed and healed a bit from staring at my Kandinsky print.   
  
Not really thinking, not really paying attention, I grab the doorknob, twist, and pull. "Come in, come in, na no..."  
  
Tohma has one hand against the doorframe, almost completely supporting the weight of his upper body. I'm greeted by the crown of his head, the ephemeral sheen of his impossibly blonde hair reflecting the light from my living room as he stares at his feet, and one word spoken as quietly as the beating of butterfly wings...  
  
"Ryuichi..."  
  
Simultaneously, every single muscle in my body tenses. I'm cringing, pulling away from the door with one side of my body and pushing forward with the other. I'm so surprised. This is so unexpected that I don't even have time to think, to reconsider, to remember anything but how angry I felt that night when we discovered him with Yuki Eiri.   
  
Seething red as poppies, bleeding white milk rage from my philodendron fingertips, I snarl. A bonfire burns in my skin, the conflagration of loathing around which we naked pagans will dance in celebration when you...Tohma...when you hurt, too.  
  
And then, because I am, at my core, mean and vindictive, I slam the door in his face.  
  
Tohma. Why is he...here?  
  
I lean my back against the door, panting from the shock. My knees feel a bit weak, and my vision...  
  
"Ryuichi...." he says again, only barely loud enough for me to hear it through the door.  
  
"Go away." No. No, that's not what I really mean. I'm supposed to fix things, I know. I just don't know if I am ready yet. I think you were wrong, Tomi. I'm not smart, or strong, enough for this. I don't want to face what's behind this door because I know...I know...  
  
And I have always known...  
  
That it will end badly. It can only end badly, no matter how much Tomi tries to re-write the story for me.  
  
(The omission of truth isn't lying. It's protecting. It's -protecting-.)  
  
"Please let me in, Ryuichi. I know you are there. I can see the shadows of your feet underneath the door."  
  
No. No. I am going to fix things -my- way, Tohma. Not your way. I don't want to know your way. I don't want to know. I thought I wanted the truth, but I don't really. I want my fantasy. I want bubbles and brightness and liquorice and light. I want euphoric angels and seraphim sex. Don't take my hope from me. Don't take Shuichi away. Not yet.  
  
"I have to talk to you, please." The pleading in his voice sends a shiver up my spine. How can he sound scared? How can he even deign to sound scared? Tohma's never afraid, he's not allowed to be afraid.   
  
Why is Tohma afraid?  
  
"Please don't shut me out. Not tonight. It's such a mess, Ryuichi. I screwed up."  
  
Hesitantly, I put my hand on the doorknob. Just two fingers against the brass. So shiny, and polished, and real. I can hold it closed. I can lock it. He won't get in here, Shuichi. I...I...  
  
Graceful and glittering and gossamer, faint and fragile and fluttering, Tohma's voice oozes through the pores in the wood, unstoppable and unrelenting. Inescapable.  
  
"Please, Ryuichi...I need you."  
  
Oh, Tohma...  
  
Please. I beg you. In the words of Mr. Poe...  
  
'Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door.'

* * *

Author Notes:   
  
You may notice that this chapter does not have a chapter preview for the -next- chapter. That would be because this is only about half of what was supposed to happen in this chapter. This is only, really, the first half of chapter 9.   
  
I guess this is not a very plot intensive chapter. It is mostly about Ryuichi attempting to reflect on things, I suppose. A transitional chapter, and for that, I apologize.   
  
It -would- have been a plot intensive chapter if I didn't split it up into two chapters. But, then it would have been -much- longer than the other chapters. And it would have taken much longer to update. So, I hope this part will suffice for now.  
  
Review Notes:  
  
As always, I thank you all for your reviews. Reponses to your reviews have been posted at my website, which is located at:  
  
angrybee.vze.com  
  
I look forward to hearing from you, and please feel free to ask me any questions you have about the chapter, or point out any errors. I will get on answers/corrections ASAP!  
  
Thanks again!  
  
And a special thank-you to certain Gravitation fans and communities which have been extra-supportive. You will never know how much it means to me. Thank you.

FFNet Note:

It appears that FF.net doesn't exactly like the page markers I use anymore. Sorry if this chapter looks different from others. Had to use new ff.net formatting.


	10. Be There

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Be There**

****

* * *

"I won't cry for yesterday, there's an ordinary world, somehow I have to find. And, as I learn to make my way, to the ordinary world, I will learn to survive." -Duran Duran, Ordinary World

* * *

"Ryuichi, I need you..." I hear those immaculately manicured nails drag across the wood, gathering microscopic splinters beneath their polished hardness. Tohma's claws being sharpened. Tohma's claws being ruined.  
  
Everything goes still for a moment, completely soundless. The door is cold against my ear, solid against my back, a barrier between me and the Angel of Death.  
  
And then I hear him, expelling air, sighing so deeply that you might be able to distill the sound and turn it into an elixir of pathos. This is normal for Tohma. But, what -isn't- normal is the catch in his throat, an abbreviated hiccup, and the tiny thud of what I can only assume his head against the door.  
  
(The visions flicker past, movies projected onto the outstretched wings of doves, cheesy music video style. Tohma positioning my hands on the keyboard. Tohma laughing with me about trying to hold onto his hat while we tape a music video in a storm. Tohma... Tohma... Tohma's shoulders bent, his forehead against my fingers, as I struggle to understand why I'm in this room painted institutional beige, instead of being blissfully dead.)  
  
What can I do? Kumagoro and I, we're both such suckers for anyone who says they need us. We're completely useless against the word 'please'. Even while wearing combat boots.  
  
The doorknob becomes a magnet, pulling my hand, controlling it. As the door slides open, inch by excruciating inch, Tohma comes with it, falling forward, collapsing like the exquisite Chrysler Building in an earthquake.  
  
He catches hold of my shirt, and I fall with him. I end up on my knees, with the apex of Tohma's head crushed into my sternum. His willowy arms are thrown around my waist, and his claws sink dangerously into my back, like a cat trying desperately to -not- fall out of a tree.  
  
And he's trembling, shaking so hard it makes -my- heart pound with fear. I don't know what could turn Tohma, a pillar of emotional strength, into this quivering mess holding onto me for dear life.  
  
"Tohma..." I completely forget that I'm supposed to be mad at him right now. I've got to fix him, because...because...  
  
Because he's Tohma, and he's always been there to fix me.  
  
"Tohma..." His teeth chatter something fierce. Labored breathing issues from his lips in irregular gasps, like he's struggling...like he's fighting so hard...  
  
"It's okay," I say, keeping my voice barely above a whisper, "It's okay to cry. You can cry, now. I won't tell anyone. Promise."  
  
A dam bursts from somewhere within Tohma. How long has he been holding this in? His sobs, heavy but quiet, pour into me. Those elegant fingers slide off my back and come to rest on the plush rug, palms up. I'm momentarily distracted by how pretty they are, like marble renditions of some unknown Michelangelo sculpture. Tohma has the prettiest hands, ever. No wonder he keeps his nails so immaculate.  
  
I just let him cry for a while. You know, why is it that almost every song about love has the word "cry" in it somewhere? You'd think there's be more words like, "wow", and "yay", and "joy".  
  
I try to rub Tohma's back, but unlike Shuichi, he doesn't need my comforting touch. Not in that way. He flinches and recoils from my hand, shrinking, slinking away from my chest. I guess he just needed someone to witness his breakdown, to allow him to be human and fragile, if only for a minute.  
  
But, even though Tohma is silent now, even though he has withdrawn from my grasp so that we're no longer touching, he doesn't look up. His head remains bowed forward, and he doesn't move.  
  
And then, at that moment, I realize that somehow, without even knowing it, I broke Tohma. -I- broke him. I never suspected that he might be made of anything besides unbendable emotional steel. Was he really glass, all this time, glass painted silver? An illusion of metal that I never suspected?  
  
I...was...  
  
Was I...  
  
Somehow careless?  
  
Did Nittle Grasper mean that much to him?  
  
For the first time since I originally opened the door, I get a good look at him.  
  
He's wearing the same thing he was wearing yesterday.  
  
And, on his right sleeve are dark splotches, discoloring the fabric, turning it grotesque rust brown. Blood.  
  
Impulsively, I grab his arm to inspect it more closely. "Tohma. Tohma, this is blood."  
  
"Ryu," he says, his voice so different from the certainty and control I know. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to get you involved in this. I didn't want you to have to remember... It took everything I had, the first time and now... I can't watch it. Not again. I almost lost you, Ryuichi, I almost lost you... I can't go through it again."  
  
"The blood, Tohma, why is there blood?" I shake his arm vigorously, trying to dislodge him from his babbling stupor. "Tell me."  
  
Tohma does stop. Finally, finally, he lifts his head, showing me those dark eyes, moonlit oceans...  
  
Tormented with waves, crashing waves of...  
  
I'm scared.  
  
But, I...I have to know.  
  
I can't let Tohma hide it from me anymore.  
  
"Tell me where the blood came from, Tohma."  
  
Tohma is talking, his lips moving rapidly, his eyes closing, attempting to shut out my...I'm certain...horrified face.  
  
"Yuki Eiri..."  
  
The room vibrates with sound, every single object humming, singing, trying to pull my attention away. It's a symphonic diversion, the concerto of a Kandinsky painting, the low bass of a glass table, the gentle piano of a couch, a funky waltz composed by the carpet.  
  
"...Gun..."  
  
I'm straining, trying desperately to hear above the din. My own hallucination of sound threatens to turn me deaf as the cacophony reaches a crescendo.  
  
"...Accident..."  
  
I close my eyes, trying to will my mind into silence. I need Tomi. I need Tomi to come help me make it stop.  
  
But, there is no Tomi. There is nothing for me to hold onto. It will spin out of control, with devils and dervishes demanding their due, My life is orbiting itself, whirling and twirling, maddeningly centrifugal.  
  
You can put a blindfold on, and spin around and around, swinging wildly at the pinata, laughing gaily, waiting for candy to rain down. And when you take the blindfold off, you find that it wasn't even a party. This was a funeral, and now you're covered in the entrails and gore of a hanged man, and you can only wonder...  
  
Why didn't they tell you there was no pinata?  
  
Because the omission of truth isn't lying.  
  
It's protecting.  
  
Protecting the fantasy. Protecting you from the horror of the truth.  
  
"The gun went off," Tohma says, his eyelids heavy and tired. "He was drunk, very drunk. He managed to get to the phone and call me. I went..."  
  
My hands are fisted at my knees. I feel nauseous.  
  
Stop the world, I want to get off.  
  
"There was so much blood, just like that time, with you...when you... And there was Eiri, curled in the corner, writing over and over in blood with his finger. 'Shuichi. Shuichi. Don't let Shuichi know. Ever.'"  
  
Don't let Shuichi know. Ever.  
  
Yuki Eiri wrote it in his own blood.  
  
I don't know what it means, but...it means that Yuki-san really does love Shuichi, just as I suspected.  
  
I've never been so sad, or so happy, at the same time. I saw a movie once where a witch doctor reached into a man's chest and pulled out his still beating heart, showing it to the man before he died. A beautiful and rare sight to see, your own heart, though the vision most certainly spells death. I'm pretty sure, right now, I know exactly how that man felt.  
  
Yuki Eiri loves Shuichi. He does.  
  
I love Shuichi, but...  
  
But, Yuki-san got shot by his own gun and...  
  
Was hurt badly and...  
  
"Yuki-san is....?"  
  
Tohma reaches out to touch my hand. I guess he can tell that I'm having a hard time with this. "He's in the hospital. Mika is with him now. The doctors are..."  
  
"No, Tohma! No!" I'm shaking so hard that I can barely even see Tohma. He's just a blob of dark suit, baby peach skin, and gold hair. "Doctors...hospital...doctors..." People die in hospitals. Doctors can't do anything. Nothing. People die there. Yuki Eiri can't die...because...because...  
  
"I know, Ryu, I know. Shh, don't cry now, don't cry." Tohma wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a half-sitting, half-laying position over his knees. He's really not that big of a guy, Tohma isn't. He only weighs a few kilograms more than me. But, I typically imagine him to be so big. Once, when Kumagoro and I were coloring in front of the television, I saw a smart scientist talk about black holes. He said that a black hole could compact the entire earth into a sphere the size of a baseball. That's what Tohma is. A very big man compacted into a very little body.  
  
Tohma's arms make me feel impossibly small, like even now someone is using a shrink-ray on me. And I'm getting tinier and tinier, soon to become a speck of dust, easily carried away on the breeze of a butterfly's flapping wing.  
  
Tohma hugs me close to him. His hugs aren't at all like Shuichi's. No. Tohma hugs tight and fierce, with all of his black hole power, arms as strong as birch...  
  
And then I realize that Tohma isn't a Venus Fly Trap at all. He's a luxurious shade tree, rising above us all, protecting us from wind, and rain, and sun. In the absurd garden where we grow, poppies and cacti, philodendrons and ferns, Tohma is watching over us, protecting everyone all the time, from plagues of locusts, from anything which could harm us. He wants to make sure we continue to grow. He wants to make sure we become the best we can be.  
  
But, I never knew, because I didn't look up to see his branches, and I wasn't smart enough to realize that it was his roots which were tickling my feet.  
  
I don't know what is going on, but I have the vague idea that Tohma didn't want it to turn out like this. He was trying to protect us, to protect us all, and he feels that he has failed.  
  
As Tohma brushes my tear moistened hair out of my eyes, he forces himself to smile. I guess Tohma doesn't like anyone to ever know he can be hurt, so sometimes you forget he can, actually, be bruised and battered as easily as the rest of us.  
  
"It's very complicated, just like you said, isn't it, Tohma?"  
  
"Yes. Very complicated. And, I don't know how to fix it for you, Ryuichi. I tried very hard to keep everything from falling to pieces, but I just...I..."  
  
I look into my living room. There are familiar things there. I only buy or keep things which mean something to me. Everything else was put in here by professional decorators. That stuff could burn up in a flash, and I wouldn't care.  
  
There's a Kandinsky painting, which I bought because it brings joy for me to look at it.  
  
There's a couch, Italian damask, which Tohma took a whole day off of work to help me go and pick out. I wanted one like he has in his house, but that was made one-of-a-kind, so we took a taxi to this furniture place. But, Tohma had the wrong address, so we ended up in this strange part of town with lots of funky little art shops. We spent the whole afternoon, just wandering around, completely lost. It was great fun.  
  
There's this plush carpeting, a deep blue that Nori-chan picked out for me. She said it made my eyes sparkle more.  
  
And there's a glass table.  
  
My favorite thing in the whole room...  
  
Maybe in the whole world, after Kumagoro (who isn't so much a -thing- as he is a soul taking refuge in a toy).  
  
Because after Yukiro smashed up the bass Tomi gave me. After Ten took me away...  
  
I went back and picked up the pieces...  
  
Took them to a shop where they were melted down...  
  
And mixed into the glass that made my coffee table.  
  
So I could see him every morning when I woke up and walked into the living room, and every night when I came home. Tomi is always here with me. Even though I can't hold him. He's always...always...here.  
  
No matter how much I change. No matter who I come to love.  
  
I don't have to forget him. And I don't want to forget him.  
  
I just have to make him proud of me. Very proud of me. So proud that his chest puffs up like a parade balloon. Because that is what I owe him. That is what I want to give him...as a gift...  
  
In thanks for everything he gave to me.  
  
"You can't fix everything," I say, pulling myself up. I stand, feeling my feet very firmly placed upon the ground. I walk over to my coffee table, Kumagoro is sitting there on top, watching me, waiting for me.  
  
He says that he will be there for me, too.  
  
And that I will be there for Shuichi.  
  
Shuichi will be there for Yuki Eiri.  
  
And Tohma will be there for us all.  
  
"You can't fix everything, Tohma. But, just because something is broken, it doesn't mean you have to throw it away. Sometimes, when things break, it isn't really the end of what they are. It is just the beginning...of what they might someday become."  
  
"Ryuichi?" Tohma asks, sounding mildly unsure.  
  
I'm going to become a better person, a stronger person. Losing Tomi isn't the end of Sakuma Ryuichi. It's the beginning of learning to love things all over again. And learning to love in a new way, learning to be strong for others, won't destroy me. It will change me from a crow consumed with sorrow...  
  
Into a beautiful hummingbird, ready to soar again.  
  
"We have to go to the hospital, Tohma."  
  
"Are you sure, Ryu?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
I'm scared. But, I'm not going to let it deter me.  
  
Besides, I've got Tohma...  
  
And Kumagoro...  
  
And really good ass-kicking combat boots.

* * *

Tohma has a red car. I guess it is a rental. I don't think you can turn a smashed up BMW into a zoom zoom sports car that quickly. It took three weeks to make a glass table out of the bass Tomi gave me.  
  
Tohma is not a fun driver, in that he drives very deliberately, and slower than my grandmother. I guess you could say that he is a very considerate driver. But, I think it is just that he doesn't really care if people pull out in front of him, since he knows that reckless driving will get them injured, not him.  
  
It is late now, and all around us neon light bleeds into the night air. They say that New York is the City That Never Sleeps. I think the people who say that have never been to Tokyo. Tokyo is the City That Never Even Blinks. You close your eyes for just one second, and you might miss something good. Like a drag queen walking a cat on a leash, or a very proper businessman scratching his butt, or an old grandma stepping into a kinky lingerie shop.  
  
Kumagoro and I are watching Tohma drive, which is absolutely fascinating, because Tohma follows all the laws of driving. He even signals when he changes lanes.  
  
I wrote a note for Shuichi before we left. It said, "I had to go somewhere real fastlike, but don't worry, I'm okay. Have some breakfast when you get up, and I'll call you as soon as I can. Breakfast is super-important, so don't forget."  
  
I didn't want to wake him up and tell him, yet. There are some things I need to know, first.  
  
"Tohma," I say, taking my cue from Kumagoro's prodding on my knee, "Do you know why Yuki-san had that gun?"  
  
I haven't told Tohma about being sorta kidnapped and subsequently drugged by Yuki Eiri. I really don't know if he knows about it. I doubt Yuki-san told him, so probably not.  
  
"Yes. I know." Tohma clacks his fingernails together, which is an annoying habit that he does sometimes when he's thinking. I'm used to it, though. "He was thinking about killing himself. But, we had made a deal, he and I, that he wouldn't do it without discussing it with me first."  
  
"But, -why-? And -why- did you sleep with him? That just wasn't... Well, it was really kinda naughty, Tohma. It made me very mad." The doctors at the mental hospital once told me that it is good to share your feelings in ways that don't involve hurting yourself or others. So, I try to do that whenever possible. "And I'm probably going to be mad at you for a long time about that. Okay?"  
  
Tohma sighs. This time it is the usual short sigh which means that I'm an idiot, but he loves me anyway. "I'm married, Ryuichi. And, I'm not gay. I love Eiri, just as I love you. Even though both you are terribly hard to love sometimes."  
  
"But..."  
  
"I didn't sleep with him."  
  
"But..." I look at Kumagoro. Kumagoro looks at me. We have absolutely nothing to say about this to each other. Because, frankly, we're completely flabbergasted. "I saw you! I saw you at Yuki-san's house."  
  
"What did you see, Ryuichi, really?"  
  
I close my eyes, listening to the faint hum of the car and the only slightly louder hum of the radio. It's playing some old Erasure song. Even if Tohma didn't sleep with Yuki Eiri, he sure does listen to some completely gay music, sometimes.  
  
I try to remember everything I saw that night. Tohma holding Yuki Eiri on his lap with a blanket over Yuki-san's legs. Tohma in his boxers. The television was flickering, casting the room in a blue glow. And it smelled like...it smelled like...  
  
Like lemons. Like pungent lemon cleaner. It smelled like...  
  
Exactly the same as...  
  
Tomi's hospital room.  
  
Because Tomi threw up a lot when he could still eat, due to his medications. So they cleaned with lemon cleaner to mask the smell.  
  
Yuki Eiri looked sweaty, I thought it was because he and Tohma had...  
  
And then I remember something Shuichi said, "It's a little trick Yuki taught me when I had the flu. Chocolate pudding doesn't taste as bad coming back up."  
  
-My- stomach sinks as my hands fly out to catch ahold of something. I get the edge of the seat and Kumagoro's right ear. The roller coaster of my life zips through an unexpected loop. I'm afraid I'm going to fall off. I don't think I'm strapped in properly. Pretty soon, I'm going to be just a colorful splat in the middle of the amusement park.  
  
No, it's too sad. It's just too sad, Kumagoro.  
  
And Shuichi. Poor Shuichi. Oh, I wish he was here. I wish I could give him a hug, right now! I wish he could give me a hug, too.  
  
Why didn't I figure this out earlier? Am I really -that- stupid?  
  
No. I didn't want to figure it out. I didn't want to see. I didn't think that what happened to me would, or could, happen to anyone else. No, it's just too sad, so sad it gives me a headache.  
  
"Yuki Eiri is...sick," I mumble, now clutching Kumagoro to my chest so hard he's in danger of contracting smushbunnyitis. "Very sick. Bad sick.  
  
Isn't he, Tohma?"  
  
Tohma nods, keeping his eyes on the road like the careful driver he is. "Yes. He has cancer. There are small tumors in his brain."  
  
Cancer. Cancer is so bad.  
  
"He's known for a long time," Tohma continues, "Since right after he met Shuichi. But, he was treated then, and it went into remission. You see, Ryuichi, it was one of the reasons Eiri pushed Shuichi away. Because Eiri remembered what happened to you after Tomi died. He remembered how you tried to destroy yourself, how you looked in the hospital, and he didn't want that to happen to Shuichi, not even a little. So Eiri never told Shuichi how sick he was. But, Eiri got better and..."  
  
"And he fell in love with Shuichi. Yuki-san found he couldn't force himself to push Shu-chan away." I'm beginning to get it now. I'm beginning to understand exactly how much Yuki Eiri loves Shuichi, "But, he thought it would be okay, since he wasn't sick anymore."  
  
"That's right. Everything was going okay until a few months ago, when Eiri got really sick again. He felt certain that Shuichi was going to find out this time. So, he came to me, and we talked about it. We decided the only think Eiri could do to spare Shuichi the pain of watching him die, was to break it off with Shuichi in the worst way possible. Make Shuichi angry. Make Shuichi hate Eiri. Then, I would send Bad Luck overseas so Shuichi wouldn't even have a chance to find out. And so Eiri wouldn't be tempted to find Shuichi..."  
  
"Oh Tohma, that's so horrible. It's super-horrible. Godzilla horrible."  
  
"I know. But, then you got involved, and everything became really complicated. When you brought Shuichi over to Eiri's house, my clothes were in the wash because I'd just finished cleaning up vomit. The medications...made him ill. (My clothes were ruined, by the way, which is why I ended up wearing Shuichi's shirt. Eiri thought he just didn't like that shirt, because Shuichi had never worn it before. It still had the tags on it.) I was trying to help him fall asleep that night, Ryu, that's all. But, you came in, and I knew what you both thought. Was I supposed to tell you the truth? Eiri didn't want Shuichi to know about being sick. So, the only thing I could do was reinforce what you were thinking. Afterwards, Eiri and I decided that it would be best to let you both continue to think he and I were having an affair. Because then you'd be able to comfort Shuichi some..."  
  
I see. I understand. I get it. Yuki Eiri didn't take me to that club to find out if I was in love with Shuichi. He wanted to make -sure- I was in love with Shuichi. He was trying to tell me to take care of Shuichi for him. He just wanted to know that someone would be there for Shuichi, forever and always, if he couldn't be.  
  
Even if it was a complete idiot like me.  
  
He drugged me because he wanted me to be unable to lie to him. But, then he saw...and...jealousy. Yuki-san didn't expect that he'd be jealous.  
  
Oh, take my heart out of this blender. It's already been reduced to slushy baby food puree. You could drink me through a crazy straw right about now.  
  
Yuki Eiri didn't want Shuichi to hurt himself. He just wanted to protect him from the truth. So Shuichi wouldn't end up like me. I can see where Yuki-san would imagine Shuichi and I to be very similar. We're both singers. We both tend to be very genki. And people who know us tend to think we're more than a bit ignorant of the way the world works.  
  
"Are you really in love with Shindou Shuichi, Ryu?"  
  
I stare out the window, feeling my breath tumble over my lips, watching as the city passes. A building. Another building. Nameless. Emotionless. And yet, inside they contain families, and friends, and even lonely souls with amazing hearts. People I will never know, passing me by, friends I will never have, disappearing in the night, loves I will never share, gone before they ever existed.  
  
"It doesn't matter," I hear myself say, "Love is a disease, Tohma. You know that it is true. Love is a horrible, terrifying, debilitating disease. A plague that mankind would do best to be rid of."  
  
"I thought you were immune, Ryuichi," Tohma says. He actually takes one hand off of the steering wheel and places it on my knee. Fingers that usually coax the most wonderful music out of a dead concoction of plastic and metal pat my leg ever so gently. "It had been so long, that I thought you'd become immune. I'm sorry."  
  
"No. I'm not immune" I push my face into Kumagoro. I don't want Tohma to see me cry again.  
  
I'm not immune.  
  
I'm completely sick with it. Love eats at your cells, lays waste to every bodily system, and ruins you forever. Love is a sentient parasite. It controls you, and turns you into a helpless zombie in search of brains to eat. You only want more. You crave it, you're addicted to it, and you cant live without it. The only way to thwart the need...is to destroy the host.  
  
No. I'm not immune.  
  
You see...  
  
My ability to love was just in remission.

* * *

"He shouldn't have been drinking. Not in his condition. Not with the medications he's taking."  
  
That's what the doctor said to Tohma. They also said that, however Yuki Eiri managed to shoot himself, he also managed to miss any vital organs. I don't understand this 'vital organs' thing. Aren't all of our organs pretty vital? If they weren't, why would we have them in the first place? I mean, if you've got a rice cooker stuck between your spleen and your liver, then something is just -wrong-.  
  
And Yuki Eiri -was- drinking. He was drinking with -me-. I feel a little guilty about that, but not much. Because, first of all, I didn't know he was sick. And second of all, the bastard drugged me.  
  
I guess I shouldn't call him a bastard, anymore.  
  
I'm sitting now on the chair in Yuki Eiri's hospital room, my legs pulled up to my chest. I've been doodling on my boots with a silver paint marker I found in my pocket. I've got little flowers and butterflies and Kumagoros all over my shoes now. When I finally run out of shoe, which should be sometime within the next half hour, I'm considering switching to Yuki Eiri's arm, which is lying limply on the hospital bed. But, there's a needle stuck in it, which gives me the creepy crawlies, so I might do his face, instead.  
  
I could never do heroin. I'm too much of a big baby when it comes to needles.  
  
And hospitals. I -really- hate hospitals. I tried to think of things I hate more than hospitals, and I couldn't really come up with anything. Maybe funerals. But, I haven't been to many of those. I didn't even go to Tomi's funeral.  
  
I just didn't want to see that. I sent lots of flowers, though. Rather, Tohma said, "Do you want me to send flowers for you?" And I mumbled something between sobs about how I hated everything that continued to live, especially flowers.  
  
I almost didn't make it -into- the hospital. I almost passed out in the parking lot. But, Tohma and Kumagoro both held my hands and told me that I could do it. When I did get inside, I was okay for a while, but then I saw an old man sitting in a wheelchair. And then I suddenly remembered where I was, and I had to run to the bathroom to threw up some. This made me more angry than afraid, because what I threw up was the lunch Shuichi had made for Hiroshi and I, and being that it was a very good lunch, and special made by someone I like bunches and bunches, I would have preferred to keep it in my stomach.  
  
So, after that, I decided I wasn't going to let the hospital have any more of the things I liked. Not my tears, not my lunch, and certainly not any of my friends.  
  
Yuki Eiri looks very pale here. In this light, his hair looks darker, golden brown, French fry color. When he has his eyes closed, and his face is slack, he almost appears sweet. An earthy angel swathed up in hospital sheets. He doesn't look so mean. I guess he never was mean, not truly.  
  
He's just a normal guy. A normal guy who doesn't smile much. Well, maybe. I might change my mind about that when he wakes up.  
  
I can't imagine Shuichi here. He's such a tiny guy, this place would swallow him up. I don't want Yuki Eiri to die, and Shuichi to try to kill himself in sorrow. He already almost tried to throw himself off my balcony. And yet, I don't think it is right for Yuki-san to try to die alone. Because, he will die, I know now. He is very sick.  
  
But, the thing is....I didn't die after Tomi left me. I tried, but I wasn't able to do it. It's because...  
  
I had someone there for me. I had Tohma.  
  
Mika was here when we got here. She had some choice words to say to me about smashing up her husband's car and being an all-around idiot, in general.  
  
So, I told Tohma I was sorry about what I did to his car, and about how I slapped him, and about tearing up the Nittle Grasper contract.  
  
"Silly, Ryuichi," he said, "You walked right past the Nittle Grasper contract. It was hanging in a frame on the wall of my office, just as it has been for the past six years. I hadn't put it in my desk yet. You tore up the title to our tour bus."  
  
Oops.  
  
"Not that it would matter. My lawyer has a copy, anyway. I wouldn't let you destroy Nittle Grasper that easily."  
  
Of course he wouldn't. Because he's Tohma. And he protects me from myself, even when I act like a complete ass. Just like he protects Yuki-san and Shuichi, and everyone else, too.  
  
Now Mika-san and Tohma are out trying to find some dinner, because they haven't eaten all day, and I am here, alone, with Yuki-san. I'm supposed to call them if he wakes up. They are both worried. Very worried.  
  
According to the clock on the wall, it's about three in the morning. This gives me a few more hours to figure something out before Shuichi discovers I am missing. I hope he eats a good breakfast. I wish I could be snuggled close to him, right now, watching him sleep, listening to him breathe...  
  
"You're smiling like that, again."  
  
I look up to find Yuki Eiri's amber eyes peering at me. With the overhead lights like they are, hazy and dim, it looks his eyes are glowing. I think his eyes were meant to be green, or maybe brown, but they just got lost on the way to the color store, so they decided to be the same color as his hair, instead.  
  
"You're awake! That's good!" Even though I am still angry with Yuki-san about some things, I really am genuinely glad that he's not dead.  
  
"I'm trying to live, here. And you're trying to kill me with the fumes from that paint pen. Put a cap on it, idiot."  
  
Yes. I think I like him better when he was asleep. But, I close the paint pen, anyway.  
  
Yuki Eiri moves his arm a bit, and then winces. I've never been shot, but I would assume it's more painful than breaking your ankle when doing a stage dive, which I did once. Not at a Nittle Grasper concert, though. The Cure. Robert Smith even signed my cast. No lie, he really did.  
  
"Do you need a doctor?" I ask, standing up, suddenly ready to flee the room for some reason.  
  
"No. A cigarette. Do you have any?"  
  
"Kumagoro and I don't smoke. It is bad for you."  
  
"Hn," Yuki-san grunts between his teeth, "I'll quit after I die. Get them. They'll be in my clothes."  
  
I wander around the room, "looking" for Yuki Eiri's clothes. They're in a pile on a wooden box at the foot of his bed, but, uh...he doesn't need to know that. "Don't think they put them in here. Sorry."  
  
Yuki-san closes his eyes. I think that he's going back to sleep, so I sit down, prepared to wait some more. But, instead, he asks, "Does Shuichi know?"  
  
"No. But, Ryuichi knows. And Ryuichi, I...I'm going to tell him. I'm going to tell him, and then I'm going to bring him here. Here to the hospital to see you. He needs to see you."  
  
Yuki Eiri's eyes flutter back open, and he glares at me. I think if he could move, he might try to pin me up against the wall and try to strange me to death. "I forbid it. I'll reject him. I won't speak to him. No. No, I will tell him I hate him."  
  
What?  
  
What did he say?  
  
He didn't just say -that- did he, Kumagoro?  
  
Suddenly, I'm aware of the blood pulsing through my veins. Hundreds of thousands of butterflies, rushing in where angels fear to tread. Lifting me, filling me, threatening to burst through. Butterflies pecking at my skin, nipping at the inside of my throat, gnawing at my soul. Butterflies whirling around me, spinning me, making me dizzy over and over again. Ring around the roses, pocket full of posies, we all fall down. We all fall down as the butterflies come for us, come to destroy us.  
  
No, not this time. I won't let them have a piece of me. Not this time.  
  
I'm not afraid of you!  
  
I'm not afraid, anymore!  
  
I will never be afraid of love!  
  
In the garden where mankind grows wild and free, poppies, and philodendrons, birches, cacti and ferns, they come to feast. And borne on the wings of butterflies, secret, hidden to our sight, is the plague called 'love'. They come, hideously beautiful, silent and entrancing, to destroy the world.  
  
But, not this time.  
  
Because philodendrons, although simple to look upon, are poisonous to small creatures.  
  
I will have love on my own terms. Not by yours!  
  
You can't eat away at me anymore!  
  
Not now. NOT EVER!  
  
I DIDN'T KILL TOMI. IT WASN'T MY FAULT. I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG!  
  
AND I WON'T LET YOU KILL SHINDOU SHUICHI. I WON'T LET YOU HAVE FROM HIM WHAT YOU TOOK FROM ME!  
  
I won't.  
  
My hand slams down on the arm of the chair. I push myself up, darting across the room until I am looming over Yuki Eiri's bed. I lower my face until I'm only inches from his, and hiss, "Oh yes you -will- see Shuichi. And you will apologize, and you will tell him how much you love him. And you will -continue- telling him this, every single day, until the day you die. Or, so help me God, Yuki Eiri, I'll...I'll..."  
  
"You'll what?" Yuki-san says quietly, not looking quite as impressed as I would have hoped. "You can't hurt me, I'm already dying. And you won't hurt Shuichi, will you? Because you love him."  
  
I stumble backwards a bit and just stare at Yuki-san. It's true. There's not a lot I could do to him. Except hate him forever. And I don't think that matters much, in the world of Yuki Eiri.  
  
"You shouldn't have ever... You shouldn't have let Shuichi love you," I whisper, "You knew it was going to end badly. You knew the whole time that one day, someday, he'd have to go on without you."  
  
Yuki-san's eyes turn away from me to look at the clock on the wall. I know what he is thinking, that his life is slipping away from him, one second at a time.  
  
Then again, all of our lives are slipping away from us, all the time. That's why everyone needs something to hold onto. That's why everyone needs something to believe in. Because, without that, we're just creatures born on the face of this earth, with the sole purpose of someday leaving it.  
  
"How can anyone turn away, when offered love so sweet and good? Men have made pacts with the devil for less."  
  
These words. I've heard them before. And yet, I can scarcely believe it is Yuki Eiri who is saying them. Well, I guess he is a romance novelist. That stuff has to come from -somewhere- within him.  
  
I pick up Kumagoro, putting me with my back to Yuki Eiri. "I didn't sleep with Shuichi. He doesn't know about...how I...."  
  
"I figured that out already, idiot. It's not about that. A fuck is just a fuck. This is..."  
  
Yuki-san doesn't finish his sentence. I don't think he can. But, I know what he means. This is about making sure Shuichi will be alright.  
  
When I turn back around, Yuki-san is glaring at me again. Yet, he looks tired. His skin is wan, and he has such dark circles under his eyes. I feel mildly bad about arguing with a man who just accidentally shot himself and has brain tumors. But, I understand...  
  
I understand now why Shuichi loves him.  
  
Because deep inside, in a place he doesn't want people to know about, maybe in his foot, or his elbow, Yuki Eiri has a big heart.  
  
"Truce, Yuki-san?"  
  
"Hn. Whatever." I'm pretty sure this is Yuki-san-speak for "Yeah, sure."  
  
I'm really getting better at figuring out what he's really saying.  
  
I think.  
  
"Good. Kumagoro and I are really happy."  
  
"What the fuck for?" Yuki-san asks, lifting his head a little. He looks more startled than he did when I yelled at him.  
  
"Because you're going to come to live with us, with me, and Kumagoro, and Shuichi. I know how to take care of sick people, because I've done it before. And then Shuichi won't have to do it on his own, which will be good. Shuichi will be there for you. And I will be there for Shuichi. We will all be there for one another. That's how it will be. That's what I have decided."  
  
Yuki-san's lip turns up into the most obnoxious sneer. I don't think he likes the idea one bit. But, that's just tough. It's what I have decided, and this time, we're going to do it my way.  
  
"Over. My. Dead. Tumor-ridden. Body."  
  
"Oh, really?"  
  
I look down at the stuffed bunny in my hand. I'm glad he's decided to enter an opinion on the matter. Kumagoro is much more intimidating in these situations than I am.  
  
Kumagoro's eyes narrow, and his sharp bunny teeth shine evilly in the lamplight. "We'll just see about that, Yuki Eiri. DO. NOT. TEMPT. ME. I'll feast on your brains. Tumor or no tumors."  
  
Is that a line from a zombie movie? I'm not sure.  
  
Oh, silly Kumagoro...  
  
You're such a badass.  
  
But, one of these days, you're going to get us into real trouble.

* * *

"What do you think, Kumagoro?"  
  
Kumagoro smiles at me and looks over at the now sleeping Yuki Eiri.  
  
"Did I do the right thing?"  
  
Kuma-chan climbs up into my lap and hugs me tight, he nuzzles my chest, burying his fluffy face into my shirt, trying to get closer to my heart.  
  
"In the end, it's not about having Shuichi. It's about loving him, whether he is mine or not. It doesn't matter if he loves me, as long as I continue to love him. Is that right?"  
  
I look down at the floor, at millions and millions of butterflies, twitching, crying, breathing their last. They litter every inch, piled up upon one another, an entire sea of vibrant color, dying.  
  
All at once, they sigh, and disappear.  
  
And then, from deep inside of me, the one last butterfly, the first one I loved so dearly, protected from the destruction of his kind by the prison of my heart, whispers, "That's right, Ryu-chan. That's right, na no da."

* * *

In Our Next Chapter: The epilogue to Pianissimo Butterfly. 


	11. Hello and Goodbye

  
  
**Chapter 11: Hello And Goodbye**

****

****

* * *

Two Years Later:  
  
-----------------------  
  
"And so, the hummingbird flew up and up and up, until he found the land that was made of pure sunshine. He carried with him, fused to the deepest core of his soul, protected within his heart, the beauty of the butterflies and the black sheen of a crow's wing. But, he cherished them both, utterly and forever, for their love exists beyond rationality, and time, and even mortality."  
  
I close the book in my lap and take off my glasses. I can't believe I have to wear reading glasses now. I should get contacts, really I should, but I'm not big on the thought of poking myself in the eye every day.  
  
I'm getting Kumagoro glasses, too. Yesterday he was playing on the couch and fell clean off, bumping his head horribly.  
  
"Argh, Sakuma-san, that's the worst story. What the heck is it even supposed to -mean-?"  
  
"Yeah, it's completely DUMB."  
  
I laugh and shrug, running my hand through my hair in mild embarrassment as I look around the room. Yeah, they say they don't like it, but they all sat very still and listened to every word. The nine kids sitting around the room, in wheelchairs, laying in comfy beds with fuzzy pillows, in bleak hospital gowns and less bleak flannel pajamas, all look like they are in just a -little- bit less pain than an hour ago. And, I like that. I really do.  
  
I don't come here -every- day, but I do try to come one or twice a week. Sometimes I play guitar for them, sometimes we read. Once, we tried board games, but they kept hiding Kumagoro, and then stealing my Monopoly money when I would go look for him. It was pretty funny, though.  
  
"Tell us about zombies! Tell us a scary one, Sakuma-san!" Aki-chan says from his spot on the couch. He's only thirteen, but I'm pretty sure if they all decided to form a gang, he'd be the leader. "Oh, I know, a story where Kumagoro eats brains!"  
  
"Ack!" I cover Kumagoro's ears, "You can't say things like that to Kumagoro. You'll give him ideas. And then next time I visit you, I'll have a bite chomped out of my head."  
  
Mirayu-chan clamps both hands over her mouth as she giggles. She has braces, and doesn't like people to see them when she laughs. However, she doesn't seem to care much about the fact that she's mostly bald now. Most everyone around here is. I feel, actually, sorta left out on the whole bald thing. Mirayu told me that it feels really neat to be bald when there's rain or a good breeze. "Sakuma-san, you're so -weird- sometimes."  
  
"Yeah, you're just like a kid shoved into some adult's body," one of the other children adds.  
  
"Hmmmm," I put the book on my head and Kumagoro balances on top of that. "I guess that means that...somewhere out there...some adult is running around in a kid's body. That's gotta suck. You'd be too short to ride a roller coaster, and you wouldn't even want to, anyway."  
  
"Seriously, Sakuma-san," Aki reiterates as he adjusts his baseball hat, "Tell us a scary story like last time."  
  
"I can't do that, someone had nightmares last time."  
  
All the children look at each other, trying to discern the culprit. When nobody fesses up, Aki puts his hands on his hips and asks, "Who? Who had nightmares?"  
  
"-I- had nightmares, na no da."  
  
They all break into laughter, making fun of me quite mercilessly. I don't mind. We're really friends, after all. And I am so glad to see them laugh. Every time I can bring a smile to their faces, it is one more tear I cried for Tomi healing up inside of me. There will always be a little sorrow, I know, always a little sadness that I carry with me everywhere. But, instead of an ocean, I will keep my sorrow in a glass snow-globe, decorated on the inside with all the things I liked best about my first love.  
  
There's a tap on the door, in the middle of Miji-chan trying to pry my actual age out of me again. I think they have a pool going. It's up to 392 yen, a rare Pokemon card, a bunny slipper without a mate, and one of Mirayu's mood rings.  
  
"Come in, come in! We have plenty of room!" I squeal. I didn't know anyone else was coming. I thought we had everyone. But, new friends are -always- welcome. Yup. Making new friends is the best thing in the world.  
  
The door opens, and almost immediately, the room echoes with several high-pitched screams of delight.  
  
This confuses me for a moment, since it's only Shuichi. Kumagoro falls off my head, along with the book, and ends up sprawled on the floor.  
  
I knew he needed glasses.  
  
"Oh my gosh! Oh my GOSH! It's Shindou Shuuuuuiiiichiii!"  
  
"Huh? Who?"  
  
"The lead singer of Bad Luck, don't you know -anything-?"  
  
"Oh my god, Bad Luck fucking ROCKS."  
  
"Oooo, don't curse, you'll get in trouble."  
  
"Sakuma-san's not going to say anything."  
  
"Shuichi is the coolest! The absolute coolest."  
  
"What's he doing here, though?"  
  
"I don't know, maybe if you would shut up for one second, he'd say something."  
  
A lot of this goes on for some time. It always strikes me as bizarre. I'm still famous, sure, but not so much with kids this young. My fans are usually in their twenties or (yikes) thirties. I mean, I go to Shuichi's concerts all the time, I watch people go absolutely insane over him, but it still catches me off guard on occasion.  
  
Shuichi wiggles his fingers at me, and then wiggles his fingers at the kids. He's pretending to be mostly -unaffected- by the outburst, but I can tell his cheeks are just a little pinker than they should be. It's hard -not- to be moved when even kids hospitalized with leukemia go nuts just because you walk in a room.  
  
They just throw stuff at me when -I- walk into the room.  
  
It's usually only pillows, though.  
  
Usually.  
  
"Everybody, this is Shuichi. Shuichi, this is -everybody-," I say by way of completely unnecessary introduction.   
  
"Oh my -god-, Sakuma-san," Aki-chan says, his jaw practically on the floor, "You know Shindou Shuichi? Like for real, you know him?"  
  
"Well, duh! Shuichi, we know each other, don't we?"  
  
Shuichi quirks an eyebrow and his lips twitch, -twice-. He's trying -so- hard not to laugh, which makes his voice an entire octave higher. "Yeah, you're that weird guy who hangs out with the International Superstar of Fashion Expertise, the One and Only, Kumagoro, aren't you?"  
  
"So MEAN!" And then, Shuichi is struck soundly on the forehead with the One And Only Kumagoro Beam, he is. "Take THAT!"  
  
"Wah! No faaaaiiiir! Itai, Kumagoro!"  
  
Mirayu leans over to the girl next to her and says, "There's two of them."  
  
The girl nods and agrees. "Scary. Very Scary."  
  
"Hi everybody!" Shuichi says as he picks up Kumagoro off the ground. Poor Kumagoro, he's just having a bad week. "Do you mind horribly if I steal Sakuma-san from you a little early today?"  
  
A murmur ripples through the gathering, and finally, High Commander Aki replies from his throne, er, couch, "No. No way. Sakuma-san stays right here with us. Unless, that is...you're prepared to pay a toll."  
  
"Toll?" Shuichi and I both say it at the same time, causing some of the younger kids to whisper, 'Jinx!' Shuichi looks at me, but I can only shrug. I don't know anything about the toll thing.  
  
"Yup. You have to pay us in lots and lots of autographs, Shindou-san, okay?"  
  
Shuichi has the wickedest smile I've possibly ever seen. "Well, alright, but...how about I do you one better? I brought portable CD players for everyone, and CDs, too. Bad Luck and...Nittle Grasper."  
  
"Who the heck is Nittle Grasper?" one of the kids asks.  
  
"Oh, I know, I know," Mirayu replies, "They're my mom's favorite band."  
  
GAR!  
  
I'M NOT THAT OLD!  
  
THAT'S IT.  
  
WE'RE GETTING CONTACTS, KUMAGORO.

* * *

Shuichi gives me a big hug in the hallway. I like his hugs. No. I love his hugs. I always have. I hug him back, of course, as tightly as possible. I try to tell him, with my body, that I'm there for him. I'm going to always be there for him.  
  
"Squishing me."  
  
"Huh? Oh. Sorry!" I let go and take a step back. I keep forgetting that I am so much stronger now. I have to be extra careful. Because frankly, Kumagoro and I can kick ass now. Except, we don't, due to the fact that it's bad to be violent when it's unnecessary. "We didn't know you were coming to see us, Shu-chan. I thought you were on tour!"  
  
"Yeah, but we're back now. Didn't you get my phone message?"  
  
I peer at Kumagoro. Cheeky bunny. Did you forget to tell me that Shuichi had called? Oh, you wanted it to be a surprise, did you? Well, I guess that's okay then.  
  
"You're home? Really really?"  
  
"Yup!" Shuichi gives me a little smile. He seems a bit tired out, I think, but not too bad. I know that sometimes when I come home from tours I just want to sleep for weeks and weeks. "But, that's not why I am here. You got anything planned for this afternoon?"  
  
Do I? Hm. Kumagoro, hand me my Palm Pilot, okay? Ah good. In the words of Elvis-sama, "Thank you very much".  
  
Shuichi chuckles as I poke at the screen with the stylus. I don't actually care if I have anything scheduled for this afternoon, because I'll rearrange everything for Shuichi, but I should look, nonetheless. "I got some stuff, but nothing that can't wait until tomorrow, na no da."  
  
"I can't believe you finally figured out how to work that thing. What was the secret?"  
  
"Buying one that was in English." I shift my weight as one of the day shift nurses walks past, eyeing Shuichi as if he's a succulent cherry on the top of her sundae. Give her the Death Glare, Kumagoro. If she lays one finger on him, she's going down. But, she doesn't. She just walks on past. Thank goodness. It seems like a bad idea to send someone to the hospital FROM the hospital.  
  
"You're lookin' good," Shuichi says. He pinches me on the side, right where he -knows- I'm sensitive. "But a little skinny."  
  
"Itai!"  
  
"You better not be forgetting to eat."  
  
"No sir!" I give Shu a bit of a salute with Kumagoro, "I've been eating some salads..." The rest of that comment is, 'Because I'm not twenty, anymore,' but I leave it off. "They aren't so bad if you put on lots of olives. Mmm. Salty, salty, yum, yum."  
  
"I brought you some taffy from New York."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Cooooool." Well, a little candy won't hurt once in a while. "So, what's this about this afternoon, hm?"  
  
Shuichi puts his left hand in his hair, rubbing at it to make it even -more- messy. It falls into his eyes, and laps at his cheeks like little pink and blue tongues. I wish he wouldn't do that. It makes me itchy in places I can't seem to scratch. "I, Shindou Shuichi, have come to abduct you." Shu pushes himself up onto his toes and then falls back down, a cute little bunny bounce. "Got a big surprise."  
  
"Really? We like surprises, na no da. What is it?"  
  
"No, it's a surprise," Shuichi says, poking me in the chest with an outstretched finger. Itai! Itai! He sure does like to injure me close to my heart. "You know, a surprise?"  
  
"Okay, but what kind of surprise?"  
  
"You're awful!"  
  
"Waffle?" Now it is my turn to scratch my head, "You're going to make me waffles? That's a wonderful surprise!"   
  
Shuichi gives me a -look-. I think he may be taking lessons from Tohma on his facial expressions. This one means something along the lines of 'you're the silliest person I've ever met, but I am glad you're you'. "Not waffles, no. Anyway, you ready to go? We have to hurry."  
  
"Yeah, I..." Then I remember that Kumagoro is holding the storybook. It's not anything published. There's only about a dozen copies in existence, all made at my local copy shop. I pluck it out of Kumagoro's hands and smile at the metallic blue cover, which I made with gift wrap. They're all different, all special. Most of them ended up in the hands of my friends and family, but this one lives here in the hospital.   
  
The Adventures of Kumagoro and Friends.  
  
Decorating the title with glitter was quite a messy affair, if I remember correctly.  
  
Yuki Eiri said it was the stupidest title he'd ever heard. Still, he helped me a lot. He said it was so I would shut up about it, but I think in reality, he liked the idea of doing something nice for someone who had passed away. We put all of Tomi's stories that I could remember into the book. I think I did a pretty good job for him. If I messed up on some, I guess he can tease me about it someday when I see him again.  
  
"I gotta put this away first," I say, "Then..."  
  
"Oh, um..." Shuichi's fingers brush over mine, just a pale shivering ghost of a touch, "Let me, okay? I wanted to say 'hello', anyway."  
  
I nod and hand Shuichi the book. He holds it for a moment, just turning it slightly left, then slightly right, watching as the hospital's phosphorescent light catches in the glitter. I know he's thinking about what he wants to say. Then, with another bounce, Shuichi turns his back to me and crosses the hall. I hear his voice, so hopeful, so gentle, saying the same thing he always says before he goes inside.  
  
"Hey Yuki....I'm coming in, okay? I hope you're not busy..."  
  
It's strange, but I can hear him smiling. I can literally hear the smile on his face. It's as soft and giving as tissue, and twice as fragile. He disappears into the room, creeping timidly around the door as if worried he might be interrupting Yuki Eiri at work. I guess...I guess old habits die hard.  
  
Ne, Tomi?  
  
I lean against the wall, the cold tiling slick against my silk shirt, my shoulder pressed into the plaque hanging beside the door.   
  
Are you watching, Tomi? I'm still trying. Trying my hardest. But, just for right now, let me lean against you for a moment, okay?  
  
I don't come to the hospital every day. But, I come when I can. I'm not scared at all of being here, not anymore. Me being afraid wouldn't help anyone. It doesn't help those kids, it doesn't help Shuichi, and it certainly doesn't help me live my life. Besides, if I was afraid, how would I come visit Tomi's special place?  
  
I lift my arm and let the backs of my fingers brush over the raised lettering of the plaque. I wish they could have been glittery too, but apparently they don't make plaques with a disco theme.  
  
"The Yoshimi Tomiji Recreation Room" is a fun place, I think. Tohma helped us raise the money. It isn't as hard as you think. We had a benefit concert. I did all the decorating of the room myself. Okay, with a little help from Nori-chan. And I put some of Tomi's pinball machines in there, too. It's a place in the hospital that isn't sad at all.  
  
Of course, there's another place that isn't so sad, but it's not really for kids as much as adults.   
  
I look at the plaque across the hall. The bronze seems to almost glow from this angle. Maybe it's just me, but that plaque always appears lifeless...when Shuichi isn't in the room. But now, now it looks so warm, so alive.   
  
So, that's where you put that smile, hm? You thought you were so clever to hide your love from him, but Shuichi knows. He still knows. And he carries on, I made sure he was alright, just like I promised. So smile as much as you want, Yuki Eiri. It's okay. I won't tell anyone. It's our secret.  
  
The plaque across the hall, the one which reads 'Yuki Eiri Memorial Reading Room', makes no reply.  
  
Oh well, he never was much of one for fruity sorts of romantic chatter, was he?

* * *

"Shuuuuuuuuichi." I run down the hallway when Shu finally emerges from the Reading Room. I'd gotten distracted by the neon lights on one of the vending machines, which then reminded me that I was quite thirsty. I come skidding to a stop only about a foot from Shuichi. I want to infect him with pep, and make sure he's not feeling too sad now. "Did you have a good talk with Yuki-san?"  
  
"Yeah," Shu replies quietly. "Told him about the tour. Told him not to worry, since I am home now."   
  
Shuichi is always so much quieter when he finishes talking to Yuki-san. Not so much in a solemn way as in a...  
  
Do you know the sound of wind chimes when the breeze has already passed? The tone lingers on, just for a few seconds, reverberating cheerfully, saying, "Goodbye, goodbye wind, I'll see you again sometime."  
  
"I bought drinks. You like grape?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
Shu-chan and I head for the elevators. I put my arm around his shoulders as we walk. He feels a little bony, too. Sometimes, you can lose weight on tours because you're running around so much that you don't always have time to eat good meals. I'm going to feed him lots while he is home. Pasta, I think. Big fat tasty Italian noodles, and gooey cheesy nachos, and pizza -without- pineapple. Yup. An international feast of horrible bad food.  
  
Sometimes I even cook now. I'm not very good at it, because it takes a lot of concentration. But, more than that, I tend to try to put extra stuff in the food. I mean, if pizza is good...it's gotta be extra good with walnuts and banana slices on it, right? That always worked for ice cream at the Softy Tasty. But, apparently pizza is a whole different species of animal. It might be the rhinoceros of foods.   
  
But, sometimes, when Kumagoro helps me stick to the recipes, things turn out okay. And there haven't been any kitchen fires or emergency trips to the hospital, so I must be doing something right.  
  
Shuichi stops to give a young nurse an autograph before we get on the elevator. He's so famous now. Mega-famous. Godzilla famous? No. Famous-er even.  
  
But, not so famous that he doesn't have time to kidnap me for a surprise. I wonder what it is.  
  
The elevator music is some horrible off-key pansy crap that I've never heard before. Shuichi and I listen to it for about ten seconds and both simultaneously break into giggles.  
  
"No wonder people are dying in here," Shuichi says, "This music is killing them."  
  
"Definite sonic attack," I agree. Kumagoro covers his ears. He's such a music snob. Shuichi nods, and begins to lip-sync badly to the squealing sounds coming out of the overhead speaker, making pained faces as he imitates every pretentiously bad singer I've ever seen. "You're so funny," I say, giving Shu a wink, "But, Kumagoro and I, we're real glad you're home."  
  
"I'm glad to be home, too. Touring is fun, but so much work. But, we're back until Ayaka-san has her baby, and that's going to be at least three months. Think you can put up with me for that long?"  
  
"Of course, na no da." I'm glad that Shuichi never moved out. It's good. When he's home, I can look after him, and when he's on the road, Hiroshi-kun, Ten, K and Sakano-san keep an eye on him. In fact, there's really only one problem with Shuichi living at my penthouse.   
  
Oh. Right.  
  
Sigh.  
  
Smile big, Ryuichi. Look happy for him. You are happy for him, aren't you? Never you mind that feeling of hungry mouths munching on your sugar-cookie heart. Never you mind the way your blood feels so tepid, the way your vision goes temporarily blurry, the way your arms ache to reach out and touch him.  
  
"How's that boyfriend of yours, Shuichi?"

* * *

"No. Just stop. Just...stop."  
  
The car lurches forward as I try to remember which pedal is "stop" and which one is "go". I mean, my brain remembers, but the signals just aren't getting to my feet. Why do my feet have to be so dumb, anyway?  
  
"Turn it off," Yuki-san says annoyedly. I grab the key and turn. Unfortunately, I turn the thing in the -wrong- direction, causing the car to make a loud screaming noise. Every muscle in my body tenses. It's obvious that I am hurting the car, but only slightly more than I am hurting Yuki Eiri.  
  
"Sorry, Yuki-san. This may be a bit too complicated for us, na no da."  
  
"It's not complicated. Millions of people across the world can drive. You're either stupid, or not a person."  
  
Huh? If I am not a person, what am I? I think I'd like to be a bunny, maybe, because you don't see a lot of sad bunnies. Plus, if I switched places with Kumagoro, -he- could learn to drive, and -I- could just sit on the dashboard and watch.  
  
Yuki Eiri unlocks the door and climbs out with a frustrated snort. We're practicing in the parking lot of some old abandoned factory because the garage at NG has just -way- too much stuff to run into. He slams the door and proceeds to walk a few paces from the car. I guess he's probably going to smoke again. He needs a lot of smoke breaks when he's dealing with me.  
  
I grab Kumagoro, undo my seatbelt, and hop out, as well. It's evening now. In this district, a subtle haze of pollution covers everything like poisonous fairy dust. The sky, the road, even the factory building, all live in a world slowly regressing from color television back to black and white. Everything is becoming colorless, except for the sunset, which peers at us naughtily from behind a robe of mauve and tangerine. Cheeky pin-up sunset.  
  
"Ano...Yuki-san..." I rub the toe of my sneaker into the gravel, trying to decide the best words. Words that won't cause him to yell. Because really, I am very thankful that he's trying to teach me to drive. I just don't understand -why- he offered, out of the blue, to do it. "You don't have to teach me, you know. I get around just fine. Even when Ten can't drive me...I do okay."  
  
"This has nothing to do with you," Yuki-san replies, pulling his cigarettes out of his pocket and lighting one. I wonder if smokers even know that they are smoking, sometimes. They don't even seem to think about it.  
  
"Then what?"  
  
Yuki-san turns around and looks at me from behind his sunglasses. He's trying to be scary, but I'm not really so scared of him anymore. Because someone who Shuichi loves, and who loves Shuichi, can't be all bad. Even if he did beat Shuichi up. I still haven't forgiven him for that, but I'm trying to love Yuki-san more than hate Yuki-san. It's a constant inner battle, however, because he absolutely doesn't make it easy.  
  
"Are you going to take care of Shuichi or not?," Yuki-san asks after exhaling, adding even more haze to the heavy air.  
  
"Yes. Yes, of course I will." What made him think that I would suddenly change my mind? "Kumagoro and I..."  
  
"No." Yuki-san's lips are tied up into an annoyed little squiggle, "No. Not the damn toy. You. Just you, Sakuma. Are you going to go on living the same life you always have? There's no room for Shuichi in that."  
  
"I..." I put Kumagoro on the car's roof, watching as my friend flops forward, face first, landing with his nose against metal. What are you doing, Kuma-chan? Smelling the paint? "I can't be someone different, Yuki-san. I can only be Ryuichi. And, I'm going to do my best, but..."  
  
"But?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Yuki-san. I can't be you. I really wish I could." Leaning forward, my forehead presses against the top of the car. It doesn't really smell like anything, does it, Kumagoro? All the color, all the scent, all the sounds slowly leak away from this place, dripping and slipping into an unseen gutter. This world is a watercolor painting set out in the rain. "If I could," I whisper, lifting my head, watching Yuki-san watch me, "I'd trade places with you. I'd surely die...to allow Shuichi to live on happily with you. But, I can't, Yuki-san. All I can do is to make sure he doesn't follow you when you go. All I can do is be his friend..."  
  
Yuki Eiri's eyebrow quirks. He's slowly fading away, too. More and more, he has days where he can barely get out of bed. They spend almost every waking minute together. Usually, it's Yuki-san typing on his laptop in bed, with Shuichi curled up beside him. Every moment is utterly precious to them. So, I know that if Yuki-san left Shuichi...even for a day...to teach me to drive, it must somehow be important to him.  
  
"His friend...is that what you're planning on being?"  
  
"Yes. That's more important, isn't it? That's what he'll need, more than a lover..."  
  
"I don't..." A breeze blows through the empty parking lot. It catches the edge of Yuki-san's navy blue jacket and pulls it to the side, revealing the beshirted torso of a man who is just getting thinner and thinner. There's no healthy glow to his face anymore, and even his hair has gone from shiny blonde to fragile straw. "I've never known, Sakuma. I've written a dozen books on the subject of love, and I can't say for certain one damn thing about it."  
  
What do I say to that? I don't know if there is anything I can say to that. But, because I'm possibly the stupidest person on the face of the planet, I try anyway. "Shuichi is the love you never expected, and the love I can never have. Beyond that, there isn't much to be said about it, I guess. Whenever I buy a dictionary, I tear out the page containing the word love and burn it. Because no one will ever know what it really is, Yuki-san. Not all the poets, not the artists, not the singers. But, I do know one thing, and one thing alone. It never dies. Because love exists beyond time, beyond rationality, and beyond mortality."  
  
Yuki-san tosses his cigarette to the ground and crushes it with the toe of his shoe. I'm pretty sure he's going to yell at me for being a silly sentimental romantic, since he apparently hates that sort of stuff. Instead, he pushes his sunglasses up onto his head and turns to look at the sunset.  
  
"You're not really as stupid as you pretend to be, are you?"  
  
"Uhhh...." I shrug, even though he's not looking at me. "Nope. I'm pretty dumb, as far as I can tell. But, I've got great fashion sense, and I make a wicked banana split."  
  
"Get in the car, idiot."  
  
"Huh? Okay, na no da." Kumagoro and I climb back inside and wait for Yuki-san to get back in. He stands there for some time, just looking up at that pollution-enhanced sunset, shaking his head sadly. Finally, he comes over to my side of the car, opens the door, and tells me to 'get in the goddamn passenger seat'.  
  
I guess the lesson is over for today.  
  
But, I decide Yuki-san is right about one thing. I can't go on like this, living my life this way. I can't exist inside a bubble forever. I need to become a better person, a more rounded person. I need to become...someone Shuichi can depend on.  
  
I can't stop being Sakuma Ryuichi. But maybe, just maybe if I put my mind to it, I can be an even better Sakuma Ryuichi every single day.  
  
Just, maybe not one which drives a car.

* * *

"How's that boyfriend of yours, Shuichi?"  
  
"Suko-chan?"  
  
Yeah. That's his name. I keep -forgetting- it. But, at least this time, I'm forgetting something ON PURPOSE.   
  
They started going out two months ago, right before Shuichi left on his tour. Before that, there was Yukio. But, they only went out on a couple of dates. And before -that- was Dai-san, whom Shuichi didn't like at all, but went out with twice because Hiro dragged him out on double-dates with Ayaka-san.   
  
It's just sick the way I keep track of these things.  
  
Suko-chan is nice, though, I guess. He smells like cedar chips and hamsters. Shuichi met him in a pet shop, where Suko works, when we were buying me more goldfish. And, I will have you know, those goldfish are doing just fine, and I feed them -fish- food every day. I bought a year's supply.  
  
"Nah, Suko-chan and I aren't..."  
  
The door to the elevator opens, effectively cutting off Shuichi's statement. Shuichi and I head through the lobby and out the electric glass doors. And...  
  
Heh. It's not every day you see a limo sitting in the front driveway of a hospital. That's gotta be breaking some sort of emergency vehicle law. I studied all about those when I was trying to pass my driving test. Ten is leaning against the driver's side window, reading some god-awful tabloid with a badly photoshopped picture of a 'Lizard-baby" on the front.   
  
"Hey! Ten-san! I found him!"  
  
My ex-bodyguard folds up his tabloid and gives us a small wave. Kumagoro and I return the gesture. Touring looks like it definitely agrees with Ten. He's even got a tan.   
  
"Hey, Ten, did you have fun chasing this guy all over the globe, na no da?"  
  
The usually stoic man just crosses his arms and peers at me with an intense look, one I am sure that can only be taught by government agencies with three-letter acronym names or -really- good acting studios. "Did you burn anything, Sakuma-san?"  
  
"No..."  
  
"Break anything?"  
  
"No..."  
  
"Injure anyone?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Did you remember to water my bonsai trees?"  
  
"Uhhhhhhhh...."  
  
Kumagoro! How could you let me forget? Shit shit shit shit shit!  
  
Wait a minute...  
  
"You don't own any bonsai trees!" Oh man! I thought I was in trouble there, for a minute. Sorry, Kuma-chan, didn't mean to yell at you.  
  
"I was just testing you," Ten says, opening the back door for Shuichi and I. I think maybe Shuichi is laughing at me a little. That's okay. I'll get them both back. Someday. Somehow.   
  
"Oh, I can't..." I say, stopping at the door. "What about Kokomogo? Can't just leave her behind."  
  
Ten rolls his eyes. "You can come back and pick it up later. I can't believe you bought that stupid thing, Sakuma-san. It's hideous."  
  
"You sound like Molly."  
  
"Get. In. The. Goddamn. Car," Ten grunts, trying to catch me by my shoulder and maneuver me into the vehicle. But me, I'm too quick. I do exactly like sensei taught me. I block with my left hand and step away with my right foot.  
  
"No touchie!"  
  
Ten nods, his black ponytail bouncing behind his head, inscrutable lips turned into a proud sneer. "Mmm. You're getting better at that."  
  
"You think so? You really think so?"  
  
"If I say yes, will you get in the car?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
I slide into the car, sitting next to Shuichi who, I think, is laughing behind his hand. Or yawning. I can't tell. Ten closes the door behind me, mumbling something along the lines of 'should have stayed in Hollywood'.  
  
Alright, so maybe I never did exactly learn how to drive a real car. I kept running over curbs on the driving test, and going way too fast in residential zones, and I think once I might have even gone through some lady's yard and smashed up her rosebed.  
  
-But-, with a little tutoring from Hiroshi-kun (who, by the way, is infinitely more patient than Yuki-san), I -did- eventually get a license to drive a scooter. So, of course, I bought a really great Vespa scooter, which I named 'Kokomogo'.   
  
So what if the scooter is cotton-candy pink and made for girls? I -like- pink. Kumagoro is pink, and he's very secure in his masculinity.  
  
Yes. A lot of things have changed. Ten helped me find a great tutor for Aikido, and I take lessons every week. It really helps a lot with my concentration. And with pushy fans.   
  
It's very hard to learn new things, and I still hate studying. But, it is good to be able to do things for myself. And...I want Shuichi to understand...  
  
I want him to understand that just because someone you love dies, it doesn't mean you have to stop living life.  
  
But, you also don't have to try to be someone you're not.  
  
I just do my best. Every day.   
  
As the car takes off down the road, Shuichi leans his head against my shoulder. His hair is getting so long now. Light wisps of it brush against my neck, giving me goosebumps.   
  
"Tired, Shuichi?"  
  
"Nah," he says, nestling against to my arm, curling up next to me as slinky as a cat, "Well, maybe a little."  
  
It's always been like this between us, and I suppose it always will be. Shuichi's just touchy-feely. I swear I don't encourage it. But, then, I guess I don't discourage it, either. What can you do?  
  
But, seriously, I have other things on my mind at the moment.  
  
"Why'd you break up with Suko-chan, Shu? He seemed nice. He didn't do anything mean to you, did he?" Because, I swear, if he did, I'm going to fucking kill him. And then, I'm pretty sure, Yuki Eiri will find him on the other side, and beat the crap out of him.  
  
Shuichi turns his face to look up at me through those long eyelashes. How does he get his eyes to sparkle even in the dark like that? Pink glitter electric sex magic. Shuichi has it locked away in his eyes.  
  
"He wasn't mean. He just wasn't..." Shuichi sighs and turns his head, pressing his nose into my shoulder. I can feel his breath sinking into my shirt, warming the entire left side of my torso like taking a nap in a sunbeam. Welcome to my beautiful, eternal, hell. "What about you, Ryu-chan?"  
  
"Eh? What about me?"  
  
"You haven't gone out with -anyone- these whole two years. I mean, surely you've had offers. I know Tatsuha-kun would go out with you at the drop of a hat. Or, there's that pretty lady that works for Molly-san, the one with the blue hair..."  
  
"Are you trying to fix me up, Shindou Shuichi?"   
  
"Well..." Good lord, what is he doing? He's rubbing his face into my sleeve. He -must- be tired. "No. I was just wondering. I thought maybe...taking care of me...might be getting in your way of doing things you'd probably rather be doing."  
  
"Nooooo, Shu. That's not it at all." I'd rather be with you. I'd rather...just be next to you. I...better think up a good lie, and quick. "I'm thirty five now. That's just too old for stuff like that. And, I'm so busy all the time now, you know? Besides, Kumagoro would be jealous!"  
  
Shuichi laughs a little. I can feel the little bead on his eyebrow ring catch a bit on my shirt. I wonder if that hurts.   
  
Why did it have to be Shuichi? There are billions of people on this planet. I can't even count that high. Why do I have to love him? Why can't I make myself stop loving him? I can learn to drive a scooter. I can learn to cook. Even Aikido isn't beyond me. But, in this, I feel so helpless.   
  
Is it because he is forbidden? If I had him, would I suddenly stop wanting him? Am I merely punishing myself for some crime I don't dare to even remember?  
  
And why Shuichi? Beyond his beauty, beyond his sincerity, beyond his kindness, what is it that makes us love one person more than any other?   
  
I guess if someone as smart as Yuki Eiri couldn't figure it out, I never will, either.  
  
"Ryuichi," Shuichi says quietly, his voice weary, "You can't live in the past forever, you know? Tomi-chan would want you to be happy, to find happiness as best you can. And...we all do, too. You have to stop torturing yourself about someone you can't be with."  
  
"I know." I do know. I know I have to...stop. Is there a clinic where you can go...to help stop being addicted to someone else? Is there some sort of procedure for weaning yourself off of unrequited love?   
  
I look out the window of the limo, watching the world pass. I can't remember Tokyo ever seeming so calm. So content. Does the city ever change, really? People come here. People leave. New buildings rise. Old buildings fall. Wide roads lead us to the places we know best. Small roads take us to secret alcoves and hidden treasures. Despite any changes made to her, she can't help but remain...Tokyo.  
  
I watch the clouds morph. How do they manage to stay so detached, so lofty, so impermanent in their love for the city? How do they know when to linger...and when to move on?  
  
A bird sits on a telephone wire, watching the world, watching me as I pass. He takes flight, soaring into the air, going into the world in search of better scenery.  
  
In the language of the birds, the word for 'goodbye' is the same as 'hello'.  
  
I see. I understand. I have to let Shuichi go. He's fine now. And he needs to be on his own. He can't live with me at my penthouse forever. He came home to tell me hello. He came home to tell me....goodbye.   
  
I'm so happy for him.  
  
I'm so happy...  
  
That's he's alright.

* * *

It was winter, I remember. The kind of day where you can tell it is cold outside without even looking. Even though my house was warm and snuggly, even though the curtains were drawn, you still knew, that outside the falling snow was blanketing everything in drifts of white. The snow came to herald the death of color.   
  
I had been in the kitchen, making hot chocolate for Yuki-san's live-in nurse, Meiko. Tohma had suggested hiring her, even though I'd insisted that Shuichi and I could do it ourselves. But, in the end, I was glad to have her help. And Meiko-san turned out to be a very quiet, and very -patient- woman. Which, in fact, is probably the virtue most needed when dealing with the grumpiest man on the planet.  
  
Meiko-san suddenly appeared in the doorway, her white uniform looking a bit ruffled. "Ano, Sakuma-san..."  
  
"Yes? Do you like marshmallows in yours, Meijo-san?"  
  
"Yes, but, Sakuma-san..."  
  
"Mmm? I like lots of them in mine. In fact, sometimes I just have a cup of marshmallows with no hot chocolate at all."  
  
"Uesugi-san is asking for you."  
  
I went to his room, leaving the hot chocolate in Meiko-san's care. Yuki Eiri almost never wanted to talk to me. Mostly, I'm pretty sure, he just tolerated my presence for Shuichi's sake. In the living room, I found Shuichi asleep on the couch. I was glad he was finally sleeping a little, and covered him up with a blanket to keep off chills.  
  
The room Shuichi shared with Yuki-san was dark. Yuki-san was sitting up in his bed, the glow of his laptop reflecting in his glasses. I know the light gave him bad headaches now. He couldn't walk around much without someone's help, because the blood thinners made him extremely dizzy. And, let me tell you, if anyone sympathizes with dizziness, it is me.  
  
"Yuki-san?"  
  
"Hn?" It's amazing the way he can keep typing and hold a conversation at the same time. "Sit down."  
  
I pick up one of the chairs by the foot of his bed and put it down nearer to Yuki-san's arm.   
  
"You wanted to speak to me?"  
  
He doesn't look up from the laptop. I really envy that type of intense concentration, that focus. Once again, I am reminded of all the things which Yuki Eiri possesses, and which I will never have. "Three things."  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"Shuichi isn't to come to my grave. I don't want that brat moping around a cemetery. And second, he's going to want to stop singing. Don't let him."  
  
"Ummmm..." This is terribly creepy. I don't like the way Yuki-san is talking. But, no. No, I have to hear him out. His voice is so level, so crisp. It's like he isn't dying at all. Tomi's voice turned into a whisper when he was sick. Yuki-san's just stays the same and...  
  
He's in much more pain than he's letting on. I see. I understand. The illness isn't killing him as much as knowing that Shuichi has to watch him...fade away. That's why he's pulling this strength from somewhere deep inside. He's still trying to hide the most hurtful things from Shuichi.  
  
"I'll do my best, Yuki-san. But, what's the third thing?"  
  
That's when Yuki Eiri takes his hands off the keyboard. Those amber eyes turn towards me, lock on my own, and search me. He's divining my worth, in this instant, he's seeing through me, down to my very core. I feel a fire, burning me, eating away at the insignificant parts of me, leaving only a raw, pulsing lump of Sakuma Ryuichi.   
  
"Don't touch him, Sakuma. I'm serious about this. Don't pursue him. The last thing that he needs are your goddamn problems. He'll have enough of his own. Let him find someone on his own."  
  
"But, I wasn't going to..."  
  
And just like that, he's typing again, completely ignoring me. He doesn't even tell me to get out. But, I leave anyway. There's nothing more to be said. There's nothing more...that will ever be said...between myself and Yuki Eiri.  
  
I sat in the hallway outside of their room that night. I knew, somehow. I'd seen, out the window on the balcony, the same one from which Shuichi had almost jumped, a land so stark I felt I might go blind. I could hear the sound of a faraway flute carried softly along in the stillness of the snowy land. It floated farther and farther from my ears, until I had to strain to even catch a note. I knew when I heard Shuichi's voice begin to sing that Yuki Eiri would squeeze his hand one last time...  
  
Because it is too painful to say goodbye.  
  
I knew when Shuichi stopped singing...that Yuki Eiri didn't have to pretend to not be in pain anymore.  
  
Please take care of him for us, Tomi. You'll like him...  
  
Yuki Eiri is a good man.

* * *

Shuichi was a mess for a long time after Yuki Eiri died. For a while, I thought it might be possible that he would just waste away. He was literally physically ill with sadness. He couldn't eat. He couldn't even speak. He could only cry.   
  
We were all pretty torn up. Tohma and Mika, Tatsuha-kun, the crew of Bad Luck, and even a great deal of the nation of Japan. For weeks, I couldn't turn on the television for fear of someone mentioning how much Yuki Eiri's books meant to them, and so forth.  
  
I spent a great deal of my time with Shuichi's tearstains on my t-shirts, and the constant worry that I'd wake up one morning and find him gone. Or worse, bleeding to death in my bathtub. And, Shuichi did run away twice. Once we found him after two days, sleeping in an alleyway outside of a bar. The second time the police brought him back. Apparently, he'd been standing in the middle of a park, yelling something at the top of his lungs about having 'no talent'.   
  
And, just like Yuki-san said, Shuichi told me that he wanted to quit Bad Luck. Somehow, though, I was able to convince him to put off the decision for a few months.   
  
Then, one day, news came that one of the television studios had decided to make a made-for-TV movie out of one of Yuki-san's books. I read the letter to Shuichi, and he immediately asked for his phone. Somehow, with K's help, Shuichi got the TV studio to agree to let him sing the songs for the opening and ending credits of the movie.  
  
After that, little by little, Shuichi depression improved. There were bad days, and there were good days...  
  
There were a lot of days where I thought we both wouldn't make it through...  
  
But, we did.

* * *

"Huh...what?" Where the heck...  
  
Mmm. I must be dreaming about Shuichi again. Because there he is, right in front of me. I wonder if I get to kiss him in this dream. Except, usually in the dreams where I kiss him, we're someplace more exciting than a stuffy limo.  
  
Oh. Limo.  
  
"You fell asleep!" Shuichi says, poking me on the forehead. Yikes. He's got fingernails. When did he stop biting them?  
  
"No, you fell asleep first, na no da." Shit. Narrowly avoided complete destruction, right there. Might have kissed him. Would have kissed him. Kumagoro, you're being no help at all.  
  
"You both fell asleep." Ten is standing with the limo door open waiting for us to get out. I climb out first, followed by Kumagoro, and then Shuichi. We're standing...  
  
Well, we're standing in front of Shining Collection CDs.  
  
The second one.  
  
Oh, right. I forgot to tell you about that.  
  
I've been very busy this past year.   
  
I bought Rexie's store when he decided to retire, expanded it, and then opened three more. It's been great, really. We have a deal with NG records to get their new releases twenty four hours before anyone else. With all my music contacts, I've set up a lot of in-store shows and signings. And I get to help promote the music of a lot of deserving bands that would otherwise be overlooked. Like 'Tempest In a Teapot'. People say they might be the next 'Bad Luck'. But, that just makes me laugh a lot.  
  
Well, yes, I own SCCDs, but, really I don't run the day to day operations. I leave that to my Managing Vice President, Molly-san.   
  
I'm the president of a company.  
  
Tohma laughs at me every time I remind him.  
  
But, it's a good kind of laugh. He's proud of me, I think.   
  
This isn't to say that Nittle Grasper has broken up, or I've stopped singing or anything. Later this month, were going to record a song for a CD to help save the whales. Or the Canadian moose. Some big animal that needs to be saved. And, I'm scheduled to do a solo for the soundtrack to some upcoming Shinchiro Watanabe anime.   
  
Like I said, I'm an extremely busy person now. But, never, ever too busy for Shuichi.  
  
"Why'd you bring me -here-, Shu?"  
  
"You'll see...come on..." Shu grabs my wrist and drags me into the store. Geez. You'd think he'd been the one working out. I think he's going to tear my hand off. And then I'll be running around with a stump, Kumagoro, and my pink Vespa. AS IF PEOPLE DIDN'T ALREADY THINK I WAS BIZARRE ENOUGH!  
  
Alright, I know very well I could have made him let go of my wrist. But, of course, I don't.  
  
This SCCD's has a bubble theme. There's giant trails of bubbles painted on the walls, and big plastic bubbles hanging from the ceiling with CDs inside. There's even a bubble machine that constantly releases soap bubbles to float down the sidewalks outside. -I- wanted the bubble machine to be -inside- the store, but Molly said that probably wouldn't be a good idea. Too sticky.  
  
"What is it Shuichi? Why are you breaking my arm off to get here?"  
  
Shuichi drags me behind the counter and points at a cardboard box with the NG logo lying on the floor. "Open it."  
  
"Huh? Okay?" Kumagoro and I bend down and rip off the tape. Packing peanuts spill out onto the floor as the flaps fly open.   
  
Inside, I find stacks upon stacks of brand new CDs. I pull one out and examine the cover. It's Bad Luck, standing in a field of purple and blue butterflies. And, above the scene, in fine white script, is the title of their new CD...  
  
"Pianissimo Butterfly".  
  
"Shu, it's..." I look up at him. He's sitting on the counter, swinging his legs, sucking on a piece of licorice.  
  
Hey. Where'd he get the candy?  
  
"No, silly, read the liner notes."  
  
As you know, it takes forever to get the plastic wrapping off of a new CD. But, when I finally do, I slip the booklet out of the cover and turn it over to the back to find the notes. It reads:  
  
"Dedicated to Yuki Eiri, a butterfly who spread his wings and flew away. Inspired by Sakuma Ryuichi, the butterfly who closed his wings around me...and kept me from following him."

* * *

THE END

* * *

"That's no good."  
  
"Huh? What do you mean, it's no good, Shuichi? Hey, don't kick me, na no da. That hurts."  
  
"You didn't tell it right. You're a bad storyteller. That's not how it ends at all. Or did you -forget- because you are so -old-?"  
  
"What do you mean? Of course that's how it ends."  
  
"No it isn't. Tell the rest."  
  
"Ohhhh...you like that part, do you?"  
  
"I'll kick you again."  
  
"Alright, alright. I'm telling it! Don't beat me up, na no da!"  
  
"Itai," Shuichi moans, "Ice cream headache!"  
  
"That's because you're eating it too fast," I reply, licking my own ice cream cone. Did you know that they have seventy-two flavors of ice cream at the Softy Tasty now? SEVENTY TWO! I could have one different kind every day for two months and still have some left to try. "Ice cream must be savored, not devoured. It's an entire unexplored science. I mean, what is ice cream, after all? Is it a solid? A liquid? Forget cloning. Forget DNA. They should do more research on Chocolate Pecan Swirl."  
  
"I guess ice cream is just one of those mysteries of life," Shuichi says, popping the last of his cone into his mouth. "Like love."  
  
We're sitting on a bench in a beautiful park. It's just turned springtime, so everything is green and blue and sparkly and bright. It's hard to imagine that just a month ago this place was covered in snow.   
  
Shuichi suggested we get ice cream to celebrate 'Pianissimo Butterfly', and, of course, who am I to ever turn down ice cream? Nope. I think I'll be dead before I'll say 'no' to ice cream.  
  
Shuichi leans against my arm as we watch some children play with a soccer football in the distance. Ah. This is good. I'm happy to have such a great friend.  
  
"Ryuichi?" Shu asks as I take another bite of my ice cream.  
  
"Yup?"  
  
"Why haven't you ever told me that you love me?"  
  
I feel every single ounce of my blood drain into my toes immediately. I'm sure that I'm as pale as an albino's ghost in a snowstorm. How? How did he... Oh God, no.  
  
"What Shu? Where did you hear...?"  
  
But, I can't finish my question. I can't, because I'm being kissed. Cautiously, and tenderly, airy and light. Our lips stick together a bit because of the ice cream. An amazing sensation, meltingly creamy, like frosting on red velvet cake, but better. So much better. Shuichi's hand twines in my hair, pulling me down...or is it up? I'm made of jello. I'm made of hundreds of thousands of sparkles, twinkling in the sky, winking, blinking in shock, shuddering in happiness.  
  
Shuichi licks away a drop of ice cream at the corner of my mouth, causing my skin to sizzle with tingles. His lips make a little smacking noise as he draws his tongue back, and contemplates the taste.  
  
I can't breathe. I can't move. I'm terrified. I'm exhilarated.   
  
My heart stops. Yes. It skips a beat. And I hear a very small a voice within me say, "Goodbye, I'll love you forever." Then, my heart starts again, and a new voice says, "Hello, I'll love you forever."  
  
This is my last kiss of many kisses, from Tomi.   
  
This is my first kiss of many, many kisses...from Shuichi.  
  
Well, that is, if I can ever get any single part of my body to move again. Shuichi's looking at me. He must think I'm insane or something, because I'm just staring at him...  
  
The boy done kissed me stone retarded.  
  
"Ryuichi? Are you...alright?"  
  
Say something brilliant, idiot. Say something fantastically romantic -right- -now-. "Yummy. That was...yummy." That was -not- brilliant. Shit! What the hell just happened? "Shu...how did you...how did you know?"  
  
"Yuki told me, silly," Shuichi says, taking off my hat and throwing it on the ground. Ah...what was that for? I like that hat. WAIT. Did he just say YUKI EIRI TOLD HIM?  
  
"HE TOLD YOU? YOU KNEW ALL THIS TIME?"  
  
"No, he told me today, when I talked to him in Reading Room. So I...why are you crying? Don't cry. I'm the one who cries. I'm going to cry too...please don't cry!"  
  
I wipe away scalding tears with the back of my hand. "Shuichi...you don't have to do this just because..."  
  
"Kiss me."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Kiss me, and kiss me, and kiss me. Let's make a new forever, together. Kiss me until they throw us out of the park for indecency."  
  
"Really, Shuichi? You mean it?"  
  
"Mmmm," Shuichi's hands slide around my neck and pull me close, "Why do you think I took off your hat? It was just going to get in the way."   
  
"Ooo, you're a cheeky bunny."  
  
Speaking of bunnies, Kumagoro, cover your eyes.  
  
You're too young for this part.

* * *

****

**THE END. REALLY FOR REAL, NA NO DA.**

****

* * *

Author Notes:   
  
Sorry the epilogue is so long. I tend to get a bit more verbose than usual when I get to the ends of stories. If you hate happy endings, like I do, pretend that last part is optional.  
  
Well, it has been a long, strange journey. I've had a blast writing this story, and I hope that you've enjoyed reading it at least a fraction as much as I did making it. I don't write sequels, so I'm afraid this is the end. But, to paraphrase the words of these characters, Goodbye is just Hello to new project. I hope I'll see you there!  
  
I hope to have the review replies for this chapter and the last one up on my webpage very soon!  
  
Sappy Liner Notes:   
  
Pianissimo Butterfly is inspired by a love I lost, a love I threw away, and a love I never should have started. Those all ended badly, but I survived.  
  
Pianissimo Butterfly is dedicated to the love I hope I someday find, that I hope we all someday find. In the name of 'forever', may butterfly wings speed our true loves to our sides. 


End file.
